


From Eden

by K4guya



Category: K-pop, TREASURE (Korea Band)
Genre: Character Death, Drama, M/M, Realization, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26875471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K4guya/pseuds/K4guya
Summary: A war correspondent (Daniel) decides to confront his sorrow thru picking up his camera and driving with no destination. Along his journey, he met a blind doctor (Jaden) who has nothing to lose and whose regret is that he refused the call of adventure.From Eden, these two boys search for redemption, and if they dig hard enough, they might just emerge to the other side.I used their English name, by the way.Jihoon is Jun.Hyunsuk is Daniel.Yoshi is Jaden.
Relationships: Choi Hyunsuk/Kanemoto Yoshinori, Choi Hyunsuk/Park Jihoon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to use their English name, by the way.
> 
> Choi Hyunsuk is Daniel  
> Park Jihoon is Jun  
> Kamenari Yoshinori is Jaden
> 
> I will use their English name all throughout the story, unless the character doesn't have an English name.
> 
> You can also read this in Wattpad, just go to:  
> https://my.w.tt/OC91ayv5wab or visit treasuremaker_kaguya in Wattpad

Time has no imposition.

It just turns and twists without waiting for anyone. You could act surprised that you've wasted seven years with no recollection of its importance, but the truth is that you're scared to death of doing something while dying in default.

I guess time has become my greatest friend. Moving. Pushing. Turning. Twisting. Ending. To the point that I depended on it to heal whatever it is that's hurting me.

That, I thought time's moving forward would be the same as my moving forward.

What's wrong with me?

Think, Daniel. Think.

The wind brought a sad tune—almost funeral-like, as families of the found deceased started crowding over the dead bodies located. The wails and cries, and the sorrowful weeping swept the artificial calm in the air.

One. Two. Three. Thirty. Forty.

It felt like forever since the backhoe thrusted upon its large carriage to the soil and unearthed the dead bodies of the journalists who were covering the candidacy of a governor in the South.

It pained me. Even the pictures in my mind brought nothing but pain as the imagined experience took turn to the worst.

Fifty-eight.

The fifty-eighth body was located. The familiar cloth that wrapped on his neck was bloody. "Jun," I muttered.

Jun.

He stood in front of me, smiling the same pleasant curve on his face as he put a brave face on. He dusted himself off and hugged me. Tight. Yearning. Yearning. Closing the terrible gap in our hearts as his lips slowly made its way to my lips.

Jun.

Suddenly the light turned brighter than it was, and the wind turned colder than it should. Tears—cascaded without any prompting.

He's going home. Jun is going home.

But, I wish I could've said good-bye.

With the flash of my camera, I took the last photo for that fateful day.

Feeling bad. Feeling numb.

Time has no imposition, they say. Yet, with Jun's death, how can I say no with such imposition?


	2. Truth is Stranger than Fiction

Some days are good.

Better than the other, really.

There's always this ray of hope surrounding me that I could pick myself up from my bed without thinking of crying. I would be sociable. I could handle a conversation without being drained of energy right after.

It's strange, because when I have those days, and I have them regularly, even, I could see Jun standing right beside meâ€”a figure from my periphery, smiling with such peace that it felt like he never left.

Jun looks over and sees that I take my breakfast; right after eating, he would watch from the bottom of my glass as I downed three glasses of water for three different pills.

He watches over my action, making sure to accompany me as I sat through a book at a corner, waiting for time to pass.

And, it does pass without the agony.

Without the imposition, even.

It's the feeling that everything's the same, and all I need to do to see Jun is to look at the corner and smile or wink at him.

It's the ray of hope.

It's the normal behind the sadness of the time that passed.

Sometimes, I could even handle a conversation with him. He would stand in front of me, covering the ray of light from the window adjacent to me.

"What're you reading?" He would ask.

"Book." I would answer. I would pretend to be annoyed that when I looked up, I would also see how he's pouting or frowning or whining that I'm ignoring him.

Yet, when I did look up, he's not there.

That is the beginning of the bad day.

I would whisper, 'oh, darn!' as if it's a surprise that Jun's not around.

Once that thought made its way in me, it stays. It sticks. It lingers. It dominates. He's not there whether I like it or not.

Suddenly, I'm hyper aware of time slowing down on meâ€”even the wind that blew through the open window appeared like a mass of cloud that entered the groaning silence of my room. Then, I would dare to look for him: in my room, in the kitchen, under the bed and the table. I would assume that he's not goneâ€”he's just busy doing something.

Then, when I couldn't find him, the reservoir in my eyes would just be difficult to handle.

I'm all waterworks with the weeping that I would alarm my mother who would run slowly towards me. My walls are closing in. My lights are falling down.

I don't know how to describe the sensation, but the imposition of time has just turned difficult to refuse. It moves ever so slowly, yet it stopped to some. To Jun. 

I think that's unfair. Really unfair.

———  
�

Today I thought of finding a way out.

Does it sound ominous?

Usually, when people like me speaks of a way outâ€”there were people who thought of the spectacle of suicide. For one, I thought of that, too. There's just an enabling control when you took your own life in the means you set for yourself.

I tried it. Multiple times but I foiled it when I do. There's always a voice in my head trying to stop me from doing so.

The voice was light—angelic, even. It brings me plenty of thought to ponder, such as: How will your mother take this? Are you sure today's the last day? Tomorrow's going to be better, you know?

Suddenly, I find myself putting down the razor or the bunch of sleeping pills that I thought of using to overdose myself.

I think of those thoughts as a plea. Perhaps an assumption, that if I were to be gone, and I didn't see Jun in paradise. I would just feel much more frightened of the eternity.

So, I took the voice almost as real as it sounded to me.

Then, I approached my mother and would tell her of what I'm trying to do. That way, she would get a proper help for me.

Is it still ominous?

I think an awareness is always ominous. If someone made the other aware of their struggles and the solution they had in mind, one would always anticipate the worst, especially, if these people are important to them.

Of course, being self-aware is just as ominous, too, especially, in one's mortality. An awareness of death means you're sad but you're trying, but sometimes, there's an inverse: you're trying, but you're sad.

That's more difficult. The heightened awareness meant that you're always aware of your mortality, and you could take it yourself because of the inability to deal with the extremes of sadness.

Jun once said, "You can't fake a thought."

At first, I understand it as that whenever possible, you can always behave as opposed to what you think.

"Your thoughts are always closer to truth; to reality, than an action. You can say anything. You can do anything. But, you can't just think of anything. We are wired to think in, on, and beyond the experiences we have."

I often thought that Jun could see through the tough exterior I have. I have to build myself that way after all.

I have to stop fearing death, so I ran to different spaces of the world where there's an armed conflict and show the world that death is scary, but some are in close proximity to it.

I have to stop fearing not controlling my life that I write the truth out of what I see from those places and take the pictures of the words I wanted to prove as true.

Yet, it never left me. I thought that I'm never immumed to death or to being forgotten.

It's true, but I have to bury the thought and do something about it.

I swallowed my bravado and continued the battle to expose the effects of armed struggle. I love my job. It gives me the life within death's embrace.

However, dying is scary when you love someone so much.

I should have known, though, that living without him is just as scary.

Sad to say, I never thought of it.

———

I woke up in the familiar scent of vetiver.

It overpowers the lavender oil in my diffuser, courtesy of my mother who thought that it would help me relax. Bless her heart for that. I've only ever stayed inside my room, so it's  
only cleaned when I go out.

When I looked up, the darkness that enveloped my room brightened. The picture frames on my wall and the books in my shelf suddenly appeared with renewed arrangement that I'm starting to see how interesting it was.

Interesting. I bit my lip in confusion as a body shifted from my shelf to the couch just beneath the window adjacent to my bed.

"Did I wake you up?" The voice stood out from all the noise I'm hearing inside my head. It was a surprise—pleasant surprise. It wasn't guttural. It wasn't rough. It wasn't a sorrowful wail that remained the same from what I heard seven years ago.

It's Jun. I looked up and panned my head to the couch where he sat. He has a goading smile on his cheeks as he put the book on his lap. Nothing's changed. He still has the almond eyes that I grew to love as it exuded a poetic quality: the happier he was, the lesser he saw, I used to tease him with it. Yet, I just love it so much that seeing it once again made me imitate the smile he had in his face.

"No, you didn't," I said.

I might've lived a life accustomed of being alone that when I saw Jun, sitting in front of me, a pang of pain erupted on my chest but easily overpowered with the welling happiness in my heart. His plump cheeks turning red. His head cocking to the side, prompting him to stand and to wipe the tears drizzling down my cheeks.

"You, crybaby," he said. "Aren't you going out today?"

"Out?" I sniffled. He's here. I wanted to pull him in the biggest hug, yet I'm paralysed. I stared at him with utmost intent to tell him that I love him.

As redundant and cliche that might sound, I just want to stand and look and watch and tell him that this is me, still loving.

"Why would I? You're already here."

He pouted. "That's no good, Danny," he said. "Just because you're Big Shot Danny who won the Pulitzer doesn't mean you should be anti-social." He even tousled my already shaggy hair.

"There's nothing for me outside, Jun," I answered, wiping my face. I can't believe tears would just cascade, but I really don't care. He's here. Jun's with me. "With you, here, I don't really mind staying home."

He giggled. He led me to the bed, putting me in a warm hug. "You're so sweet for your own good, you know?" He kissed me. "But, you promised that you're going to take photos of flowers in Sierra Madre; that you're going to fill your journal with stories." He kissed me again.

None of them mattered anymore. I shook my head and buried my face on his chest, inhaling the musky vetiver scent of his shirt. "You are here," I grumbled. "You're all I need to have."

"That's no good," he said. "What about your passion?"

I looked at him, smiling. "How about tomorrow? I just want to be with you today."

"Okay," he said, "but you have to do it tomorrow, okay?"

I nodded. I laid on his arms for a few minutes. Content. Exhaling finally with glee that Jun's back. It felt that all the tears that left me were finally heard, and he's returned to me.

"Have you had breakfast already?"

He shook his head.

"Really?" I pushed myself upwards. "Do you want some coffee and biscuit?"

"The usual," he said. I kissed his forehead and jumped up. This energy. This life. I have nothing without Jun and his return is everything for me.

I ran downstairs. Something unusual that my mother looked at me, shocked. It's been so long since she saw me perky and excited. "What happened?" I put her in a tight embrace, kissing her on the cheeks.

"He's here," I said. My mom has grown older than the last time I saw her. She looked worried that the line on her forehead and cheeks were prominent. She even looked tired with bags on her eyes.

"Who's here?"

Her house is even brighter than last time, too. I mean, I've been here for seven years but only today I saw her collection of china cups and plates, and the glinting silverware upon the hit of sunlight.

She also arranged some breakfast on the table which is mouth-watering: bread, soup, spread, and sausages.

I took a mug and poured coffee in it.

"Are you bringing food for yourself upstairs? You shouldn't run like that, too, Danny, I thought I'm going to have a heart attack seeing you bolting down here."

I also took some bread and put butter and jam on each side of it.

"You also seemed happy," she said. "Did something happen? You've been crying in your sleep last night."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mom. I don't know what had gotten into me the whole time, but he's here," I said.

"Who's here?"

"Jun's here?" I laughed. "He's here. I think I might need to bring up some of the photographs I took, so he could see what I'd been doing before he left."

"Jun?"

Yet, before she could reply, I'm already bolting upstairs. I'm scared that Jun would have left when I went downstairs. He's still there, looking at the last picture I took.

The picture of a backhoe, holding a pile of soil with a purple scarf dangling off it. Just below the backhoe were the bodies of the murdered journalists.

"Is this it?" He showed me the frame. "I like the working title, by the way. The Modern Holocaust. It sounds like something... really intense."

"Well, it is," I said. "Murder is never a calm discussion. You can't sit and ponder about the intensity of murder; much more, mass murder, and think it's not as intense as the other."

"Is this your last project?"

I looked down. I don't know what answer should I give to him. Though, anything further from the truth would just clash with my ideals.

I nodded. "I quit. Also I'm diagnosed with an extreme case of Manic Depressive Disorder, so I'm taking medicine for it."

"Oh," he grumbled. He took the mug from my hand and had a quick sip before he shook his head. "You're planning to return soon, right?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I just need to get some clearance from my psychiatrist and see if I'm deemed fit to work."

"I think you'll do something phenomenal, but you shouldn't forget yourself. You should go out and return to photography and writing."

"I never stopped, you know," I said. "I have journals and pictures downstairs. You want to see them?"

He nodded.

"Great! Wait for me, okay?"

I ran downstairs again. I went to the boxes again and looked for the pictures I printed. They're not in the box. Even the journals are not inside the cabinet where I always pile them. I pulled another container with no luck.

"Ma," I shouted, "have you seen... ow... darn it... have you seen my journals?"

"Where did you put them?" She shouted back hurrying to the living room.

"Here!" I pointed to the box. "They're not here," I said, throwing the box away from me as frustration started easing in. "Jun wanted to see them!" I forcefully opened one container and kicked it away when there's nothing in it.

It burns me. The anger. The annoyance. Then, I'm just lonely because my mother's not doing anything. She's just looking almost pitifully, for I'm tearing myself over some pictures and journals that I couldn't find.

"Stop this," she said. "Just stop this, Danny."

"Why? I need them? Jun needs to see them."

I started pacing around, checking every nook and cranny. Almost opening all containers to locate what I'm looking for.

Ma followed me. "Jun's dead," she said.

"He's not," I said. "He's upstairs. He's in my room. He's waiting for me with that darned journal!"

"He died already, Danny." She approached me, putting her hand on top of my head. "He's not with you anymore, and you need to let him go."

I couldn't, though. My mother made her pleading heard, yet I pushed her voice out of my head and proceeded to pace around. He's not dead. If he were, then who's that guy in my room? "Then, who am I without him, huh? If I were to let him go, then what am I left with? You know, I fear my mortality because of the idea that I might left Jun alone. Yet... yet... I don't know what to do without him. Suddenly, my mortality has become more frightening."

"Danny," she muttered.

"I'll show you," I said. "Follow me upstairs, then you'll see him."

She followed me. Yet, when we arrived to my room, nothing was amiss, except the untouched bed and the mug of coffee and the bread.

My room was as pristine as it was when I was alone. It is dark. It is empty. It is noisy with the silence that emanated from it.

"Jun," I called.

My mother stood, surprised and pained as I started walking around my room. "Jun! Please, come out, you're just here earlier."

I started running downstairs. "Jun!" I went to the kitchen and the bathroom, waiting for him to jump out and surprise me. "Jun!" Maybe he's hiding, and he wanted to tease me. He had done it already. "Jun!"

He never came out. "Jun," I shouted. My mother ran up to me, seeing a crying mess in the process. She threw herself to me and hugged me tight.

"Jun's here," I said. "He was just here."

She cooed to me before plunging a syringe in my arm.

"I never left," he said. I couldn't hide the smile on my cheeks the soonest I saw his beautiful smile.

"Jun," I said.

"Don't forget your promise, okay?"

I nodded. "Jun."

Then, there was darkness, without the warmth or the scent of vetiver.

There was only darkness without Jun.

There was only darkness.


	3. One Good Turn Deserves Another

Dear Ma,

How are you?

I don't know why I decided asking you that, really. It sounds very appropriate after you put all your attention to me, but I wonder if you would also want out pretty soon.

It's just difficult. I'm difficult, and the condition I'm in is difficult, too.

Yet, you've never given up on me. You kept your kind promise to take care of me without expecting that I would be able to give back pretty soon. I might never go well ever. I might stay broken and live within the darkness of my thoughts.

But, I hope you keep seeing me as your bright Danny, for I never stopped hoping that some… essence... of normalcy would return to us.

I guess I should have kept my expectations real. No one goes out of mourning unscathed. And, some mournings just never end.

I'm sorry if you receive this at a bad time, I'm taking this way out, but I'll never be gone.

We'll see each other again, and when we did, I hope some parts of me are better.

This is me, loving,

Danny

———

I left the house early.

It was three in the morning, and the light hadn't broken the horizon. Not to mention, it is also cold as balls that I think I'm turning sluggish.

This is the first time I'm stepping out of my mother's house after seven years where I'm not going to my shrink. It's liberating but also mortifying that I couldn't stop myself from looking at my back.

The road is visibly empty, yet it's not entirely asleep as people of different ages continued their trek from the distance. It's strange. Does the metro ever rest? Do people in the metro ever fear death in sleep? Or, if they sleep, do they fear missing out than they fear death?

For me, I think I stopped fearing death the same as I stopped fearing missing out. I've had plenty of close calls with death, really, but all it did was force me to crave the call of it.

As a war correspondent, I'm tasked to tell the untold story of conflict or to show the different faces of struggle. It wasn't easy. I mean, nothing is ever easy, but going to a foreign place where there's conflict just takes the cake.

Yet, all that difficulty is the greatest highlight of my improvement as a person.

"Where are you going?"

I looked at my back. There he was, Jun, following me. He's wearing a purple flannel shirt on top of a white shirt. He also has a violet scarf.

Seeing him, wearing the same clothes on the day of the massacre made me feel conscious: less alive and more simulated. It's like slowly losing control of my body and only being aware of the environment as I continued to scan Jun's presence.

"Do you like it?" He asked. He even flashed me a smile as he spun and posed. He's still as incredibly handsome as the day I lost him.

"I love it," I muttered. I bit my lip and threw my gaze back to the path I'm trekking. The wind remained cold and empty that when it hit my face, it felt nothing. Then, the path just grew longer as I started seeing the back of my head. "Are you following me?"

"I am," he said. He laughed a little, not minding how some of the crowd are looking us. He held my hand, tight. He maintained eye contact that I felt light—almost transcending from my exit to my mother's house and my possible entry to this new found freedom.

"I'm going out today," I said, "though, I still don't know where to go or what to do. I'm also driving again which is so strange. I hope I still know how to drive, otherwise, I might take the bus."

Light seemed to beam out of his face when he smiled wider than usual. "Finally!" He fist-pumped. "Watch out world, Daniel Choi is making a come back!"

"Oh, I'm just honoring my promise," I said.

"But, it's a huge step," he said. He gasped. He faked shock upon seeing that I also brought my camera. "And, you also brought your camera and jounals. Oh, the mind reels! Make sure to take great pictures of me, okay?"

"You'll be my only muse for this travel," I replied.

"You also brought a lot of pens, huh?"

"Did I?" I opened my bad and shook my head. "Never mind that. I think some of those items had been with me since two-thousand-nine. You think I should throw it?"

"Huh, why?"

"Well, they're trash in my bag?"

"Not now," he answered, laughing as I took all the pens from my bag. When he stopped laughing, the smile on his face fell. "Don't you ever get lonely?"

I looked at him, smiling. "What's that about?"

"I'm just asking. You've been inside your mother's house for seven years, and I refused the idea of you, being a homebody, for you're always into adventure. I mean, when you returned from Iraq, you made a pact that you'll visit Banahaw just to take pictures of flowers. Then, I also teased you about wanting to be a botanist, but you've been to Lebanon, Congo, and Libya, yet you've never had the chance to do anything you wanted to do right after you returned from Maguindanao."

"Is that right?"

He nodded at me. "Is it because of my death?"

I shook my head, laughing at first. Yet, seeing how there's no humor in his face brought me back to my senses. I think I should admit it already. When Jun died, I died along with him. Does it matter that I'm still alive—or simulating living, like watching television, eating dinner, and sleeping when needed? "I'm numbed of it," I said.

"I think that's a lie, Danny," he said, "I mean, okay, technically, not a lie because dictating your experience is not my duty. But, I think you've just grown accustomed of being alone i.e. not feeling anything that you considered my death as an affirmation that you're meant to be alone. You're not destined to be that, okay? If you were, I think you'd refuse it, for you're not going to find contentment in being a robot." He suddenly broke into a peal of laughter. He even imitated a robot. "Meep-morp-zeep… I'm Danny... Indoctrination in progress…"

"Oh, zip it, Jun! I'll have you know I'm okay on my own. Plus, no one will think bad of me that I'm popping pills every morning. I have nothing to lose when I'm with myself."

He took a hold of my hand again. Tighter, this time. "You're not. One thing that you should know, Danny, is that we are always a little sad. There's nothing wrong with it because of our awareness of our mortality, but we try, you know, to connect, to be part of things, to be part of someone's life. We're always arguing for trying, but the real thing remains to be in front of us, the trying is in line to make meaningful connection to people."

"Well, aren't you a cunning little philosopher," I answered. He tapped me on the back as I laughed at him.

"Once you're out there, Danny, help someone out and see how long will it take you."

"But?"

"If you really have nothing to lose alone, then it's time for you to lose it. It surely doesn't bring you happiness anymore."

He made a clear point. I looked at him, slowly nodding. Is this what freedom felt? That, I get to see myself walking and walking—even aimlessly and still finding some peace.

"Anything for you, Jun," I said. "Anything for you."

I felt lithe fingers tugged on my jacket. It stopped me on my tracks that I immediately threw my attention to the one that stopped me. Then, it hit me. A car sped through my side, narrowly avoiding me as I'm pulled back to the pavement.

"What do you think you're doing, man?" He shouted.

"I'm trying to be less sad by making meaningful connection."

He squinted his eyes at my response. Oh, gee! Don't get angry, man! "What?"

———

Dearest,

I always told you that I'm going to die early—if not, earlier than you would because of my profession.

I was in Iraq, then. The biggest news is about the discovery of a mass grave where Saddam Hussein shot and buried 15,000 children and women during an uprising in 1991.

I'm broken and hurt while writing the rest of the article to match the pictures I'm taking. I thought, 'the world is cruel that Saddam's victims are left to suffer while the henchmen prosper.' Then, I was just angry and lonely and scared because the world is not turning for the better.

I thought, the permanence of death brought nothing to appease our uncertain life, for the world is cruel and remains cruel throughout the remainder of our existence.

I thought, life is pretty lonely, and that humanity is always on the verge of sadness, yet none of us could change it.

I also remembered crying a lot, because I'm pretty certain that I'm going to die early. I know I shouldn't fear it, but I thought of you, Jun, and I thought of how much I love you.

You know, your mortality wouldn't stick on you until you realize you're leaving someone behind. I learned that from the women who wailed and poured the sand they scooped from where they found bones of their loved ones on their hijab. I know it granted closure but not justice. And, realizing my mortality is enough of a closure but doing nothing is not justice.

So... I stayed and did my work. I did my service to my fellowmen and brought the truth about Iran, Israel, and Gaza. You were practically impressed and a little jealous for you're in the Philippines covering a local election.

I told you that I'm going home, but you insisted that I stay and do my best. I was crazy, stupid happy hearing that from you and knowing that you're supporting me.

You are, in every and any way possible, kind. I don't think two people could have been happier until something untimely happened.

And, then, there's me, spiraling. It's like everything has fallen to darkness, and there's no way for me to retrieve all that I lost in the dark.

I fought it. I know that I'm spoiling the sacrifice you've made in the pursuit of truth thru proceeding to the next chapter without the certainty of being with you again.

That, I know. That we would always move forward.

Time has no imposition. It just turns without our help.

Maybe this decision is not right, but I'm willing to test it. All I can say is that I owe all my happiness to you, even in the face of death, I thought of you and saw you.

You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good.

Everything has gone for me but the certainty of your love. I can't go on running away, so I'll face death once again.

I don't think two people could have been happier than we did.

I love you, Jun.

Choi Daniel.

———

The year was 2004.

I was in a charted flight from Iraq, returning to the Philippines. I was shell-shocked—probably, fearful of my safety for my last live broadcast, a vehicle passed through a landmine, and it exploded in grotesque fashion.

I was partially deaf because of my distance with the explosion. It was so darn close, and I don't know how I left the scene unscathed. There's no wound or anything on me. Probably a shattered ego because I did yelp like a kicked dog that day.

Did I hurt, though? I didn't really, physically, at least, but gossip-monger wouldn't be satisfied with I felt a pain in my heart.

I think no one's ever satisfied unless I'm to be sent home bruised and battered. Because, the world is cruel, and it needs cruelty to continue rotating.

Though, when people learned of my story, they said it was a miracle.

A miracle, that I survived such close call.

It wasn't, though. Four lives were lost when the vehicle rolled on the buried mine and caused it to explode.

It wasn't a miracle, for I learned that life is very uncertain. People would say that it's almost always uneventful, but a life in conflict is never uneventful.

I pictured my life and imagined what I would be hadn't I chosen to be a journalist, but anytime I thought I should have become a doctor or a teacher, a new image of death appeared to me.

It was crazy. Throughout the flight, I only ever thought of death, and what would other people feel when I die. Knowing myself, I started obsessing over it that I even claimed that there's nothing that has more weight in our lives than death. Of course, I also thought about my mother and my already-dead father, my friends, and my lover, Jun. I thought of their importance, but only because death has its grip on me.

It became the single most important knowledge in my life: we die and we feel scared of dying.

And, one might ask, why death of all things?

The answer is death is the end of all facts about us.

Once I die, I put death as the greatest sway to all the facts about me.

Some might say, I like collecting lip balms—cherry flavored ones. Then, some might ask, does he like mint, but an answer is impossible, for I'm already dead.

Knock on wood. Let's not speak so factual about it.

So, when this incredibly handsome man that pulled me out of the way, asked, "are you crazy? Do you want to die?"

I don't know what to answer. It seemed like I bit my tongue, and I lost all my ability to speak because of the pain.

So, I shook my head and scratched the back of my head.

"Mother—Father, man! Are you okay?" He even flashed a light in my eyes to check if I'm really okay. He's also wearing all white that I'm assuming he's a nurse heading home.

"I'm sorry for making you worry," I said. "I think I'm still half-asleep. I'm dreaming, you know?" I laughed. "I was talking with a lover about making meaningful connection. Geez, Louise, I'm really sorry."

"You made me worry," he said. "Good thing, I saw you making your way to the road. Anyway, how many fingers am I holding?"

"Three," I said.

"What's the color of the sky?"

"What's the weather and time and the terrain?"

He's not amused. He squinted his eyes again, releasing a small growl as I smiled and winked at him. "Okay, okay, blue, during the day and black, at night. Sometimes, at the north and south pole, when there's an intense solar activity, you'll see the aurora. It's fun!"

"And, your name?"

"Daniel Choi," I said. "Look, buddy,"—I looked at his name tag and saw that his name is David—"David, right? I'm fine. I'm sorry for making you worry, I'm on my way to my house."

He looked at me from head to toe when I stood up. It seemed like he recognized me because of the smile on his face."Are you Daniel Choi, the newscaster?"

I shook my head but nodded anyway. "I used to be a war correspondent, but I stopped after my last project. I'm just getting by with dreaming while awake."

"Oh, wow!" He exclaimed. He shook my hand with enthusiasm that I'm suddenly stumped of the change. I thought he's going to beat me up earlier, but now he's pretty agreeable. "You're one of my heroes during my campus journalism years. I read all your articles and your interviews. I mean, you've spoken to a despot like Muammar Al-Gaddafi."

"Oh, you saw that, I was trembling in fear when I did that. Partly because I experienced what Marie Colvin did, there's a white cloth prepared for me."

"Don't tell me you've also met her," he said. I shook my head. Sad to say, she died in Homs.

"Well, she's dead already, but I could've if I took the project."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know."

"It's alright," I replied. "Death is part of our profession—any profession, really. Life is that uncertain, but we press on for the people. Anyway, it's been nice chatting with you, David, and thank you for the help," I said. "I'll be very sure to pass it on."

I was slowly walking away, then, when he caught up to me. "Would you mind if I drove you to your place? My car is over there. I'm heading home, too, so you're not imposing."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

He nodded. There's no point in arguing, too, so I nodded and went with him.

Once inside his car, the memory of driving immediately flooded in me. No public vehicle for this guy, then, I thought. Not avoiding laughing as he stirred to the left and drove on.

"I heard your last speech, too, before you disappear from the light," he said. "Death maybe factual, but so is human resolution. I always like that. It was for your award winning picture: The Modern Holocaust. I also read the article about it since it gained a lot of international attention. Fifty-eight civilians—mostly journalists killed. You also made the claim that the Philippines is the second least safe place for journalists."

"It's true. Our government fears dissent, and much said about it is true: journalism is considered an enemy that the every chance they have, they silenced us. But, it's a fight, you know, there's no impunity among the truth-tellers that the fight has to be waged."

"I agree," he said, laughing a little. "My mother prevented my choice to be a journalist because of that reason."

"That's too bad, but I'm sure you're enjoying being a nurse," I said.

"I get to save a life, so I'm happy."

"I wish I'm like you," I said. "I don't think I'd have the balls to say I saved lives, because I'm not."

"Yes, you are," he said. "You save a life because of your pictures and articles. You show the world the truth about war and present an image that's beyond a suburban idea. It's brave and it saves a life because it awakens the humanity in the world that watches."

"I like the optimism, really," I said, "but the world doesn't really care. I think people often forget that bad people exist because they can and because they get some support. I think an awareness is only the bare minimum, but collective action is still the most important. Our job is to bring awareness, and whatever is the result of the brought awareness is on the people."

"I'm sorry, Daniel," he said. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"Oh, am I?" Instantly, I wiped my face and laughed. Yet, when I did, some sobs escaped my lips. "Goodness! I cry when I get so passionate," I said. "Anyway, you did mention you wanted to be a journalist when you're younger, right?"

He nodded. "I still practice writing, so I'm never really sorry that I didn't grant it."

"Is that right? That's better, I think. Journalist should never stop attempting to uncover the truth and create awareness among people for when they stop, they become a menace in society."

The drive turned silent for a minute. The surrounding slowly gaining light as the sunlight burst through the sky. "This is my street," I said. "You can just stop here, and I'll walk the rest of the way," I said. "Oh, yeah!" I closed the door again. "I wanted to see what you write, send it to me in an email. Just introduce yourself, okay? Here's my card. I'll read it once I returned."

"Are you leaving? Oh, geez! Where are you going?"

"Away and do something about uncovering the truth and creating awareness, so I could stop being a menace," I said.

I smiled and waved at him as I exited. Not stopping on waving as he started driving away.


	4. Even a Chance Acquaintance is Preordained

TRANSCRIPT OF CHOI DANIEL'S ACCEPTANCE SPEECH FOR THE PULITZER PRIZE FOR FEATURE PHOTOGRAPHY.

Date: MAY XX, 20XX  
Title: Death is a fact of life.

Death picks a certain face to present. It's the reason chills were sent down our spine when we hear of the words: war, mass murder, holocaust, for we know and see the face presented is not peaceful; much more, we are well-aware that those who met their demise, met death in its most violent.

We heard of Iraq and Iran. We're made aware of Libya and their fight for freedom from the dictatorial rule of Muammar Al-Gaddafi. We also know of Kosovo and the ending of Radovan Karadzic's liberty. We call this as a triumph in journalism, for we brought the word out to the world and lighted the awareness among people that they could take action and help those in need.

However, there's another place in this planet that seemed to elude the global consciousness. The brief mention of this country would easily remind you of a tropical paradise with plenty of beaches, hospitable people, and exploitable workforce. Indeed, this country passes to your mind as a dot in the Pacific. What the world doesn't know is that this country is also ranked second, just last year, for the country deemed not safe among journalist.

The country is the Philippines. With its majestic seven-thousand-six-hundred-and-forty-one islands, you would assume that mass murder is far from its problem, but it wasn't. They said fifty-eight lives were lost on that day, but the truth is they also killed the illusion of freedom of press in the Philippines where neither, not the journalism mafia or the tin-hat-wearing conspiracist, could deny the existing impunity in the holocaust, if you may, of truth-tellers and whistle-blowers and reform-bringers.

This impunity did not sprout out of nowhere. It has been systematic—almost clockwork, for the government fears the truth and the changes it brings to the power they had. They hated change because of its ability to change the facts they peddled among their people.

I remembered briefly my stay in Libya and the concerning rise of summary execution to journalist. I remembered my stay in Iraq, and the orders of censorship and death among people who have nothing better to say to the state. I remembered Gaza and the bloodied pulp they're left without the ability to tell their truth. I suddenly felt, not a foreigner looking at a greater system in motion, but, a local who knows and feels and experiences the trouble and oppression to tell your story to the world that is willing to listen. I suddenly felt that death is my only call for attention, for the world is in a veil of their own battles that we forgot that we're connected in one global struggle.

The uglier the face of death, the more attention it garnered.

When it shouldn't be that way. Life, regardless of its face, required protection, and it's our duty as fellow people to uphold the rights not only of those victims of the struggle but also of those presenting the face of those who struggle.

So, I plead of you, that when you look at those pictures of struggle, like the backhoe containing not only soil but also the body of an esteemed political correspondent, think of death as an unavoidable fact. When you look at death in the eyes, like the bodies uncovered, stripped of their dignity and life, think of human resolution as death—we might be resilient, but we shouldn't get used to it. Death is factual, so is human resolution.

Fight impunity. Say no to impunity. Our resolution is powerful. Thank you.

———

There is a saying that bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid.

After all, fear is inescapable. It just manifests in forms that send us on the edge and make us react irrationally, at times. But, then, we do things without fear but is still purely irrational, like, eating something we're allergic, confessing our feelings without understanding it, or, I don't know, taking a stranger from the road and driving with them in the duration of a really long and aimless journey.

The last one is based on my current experience, but when I saw Jaden on the road, I never felt thanatos until he sat on the passenger seat and smiled at me.

"Thank you," he said. "I thought of commuting, but the traffic sucks so bad that I'm challenging my luck."

"Challenging your luck, huh? That's very ballsy of you. Hitchhiking is not really the safest thing to do."

"We can agree to disagree," he said, "unless you have a plan to kill and skin me. If you do, would you mind doing it after I experienced a sunset?

"What?!"

"I have nowhere to go, really, but I just really want to be away and to feel the sun setting."

"You think I'm going to kill you?"

"Yes and no," he replied. A small shy laugh escaped his lips as he reclined the passenger seat a little. "But, you're the first person to have stopped on me without thinking that I'm begging for cash. So... I mean, murder is not far from an ulterior motive, unless you're just really flexible with your roadside culture. You know what I'm saying? And, I mean, really flexible..."

"You're unbelievable," I said, rolling my eyes back to the road. "But, I guess, the latter part is right. Some flexibility is applied today, given that I promised to help out today."

"Oh, crap! Are you trying to rehabilitate?"

"What?!" I exclaimed. "Why would you assume that?"

"Don't get me wrong, okay? Being generous to a blind guy is actually commendable, but promising to help someone out today sounds like something a character from a rehab would do after a scathing failure from a highly-funded research expedition."

"There's some specificity in that," I teased, wiggling my eyebrows. "Is it—"  
Yet, before I could finish my sentence, he immediately cut me off.

"Based on experience, yeah. That failure is the reason I'm blind, but it wasn't our director's fault. Even though it wouldn't hurt him to research about guerilla activities in Sri Lanka."

"Tamil Tigers?" I asked.

His face scrunched up in a bitter grimace before smiling back at me. "Even you know them," he said. "It happened, though, an RPG explosion ends my career."

I couldn't find the word to describe the levels of awkwardness I'm feeling. Here I thought, I'm just going to drive and be lost and take pictures and write, but it seems like I'm taking an involvement with the person I decided to help. The worst thing about what he told was that I don't know how to dispel the silence.

Fuck, man! An RPG? It must've exploded in such proximity that it permanently blinded him.

I sighed. He remained looking down, breathing slowly without following up with what he said. "I'm sorry."

He raised his head, smiling with a hint of mischief, for his head cocked downward. "Basically, I have nothing to lose, so it's not exactly that bad," he said. "Finally, I could follow my guts and see what kind of adventure it would bring me. Even dying in the hands of a stanger is not demeaning anymore."

One might think he's being an ass and a little brave, but I thought he's being irrational. Certainly, there are people who would mourn his loss. There are people who would upturn continental plates to find him, given that he's not blind in the early years of his life.

Though, I didn't voice it. I also thought that I'm a hypocrite for suggesting anything otherwise given that I'm pretty much an empty vessel of what I used to be. I'm pretty lucky to have shaved and cut a portion of my hair before leaving. Just like him, I've garnered such blind bravery that only I knew how I feared my mortality, but I'm not minding the idea of death. In fact, I tried it, but I stopped because of the immediate pain I imagined.

Pretty irrational, I know.

Plus, I've never given starting over a chance. I'm not used to old beginnings. You know, doing all the routines of living without changing, yet everything has significantly changed.

One look at Jaden, I thought of the letter I left for Jun at my house—it's my honest revelation that I'm going to try and find my way out of the hole I fell in.

Then, I pictured myself back in my house, crying one last time as I put some of Jun's pictures inside my drawer. And, I thought, I'm not going to face his lovely smile until I breathed some reality to what I promised.

To face death without fear. To help someone out. To be more of a journalist and less of a menace.

There's this saying that bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid. And, I'm mortified, for I don't know where would this lead me. Would I be better right after? Would I be dead days before I found the end of everything?

Hours prior meeting the stranger inside my car, Cindy Lauper's Time After Time flooded the gates of my limbic system, preventing me from being emotional as I'm belting the song in my radio. The road's starting to gain less vehicular interaction that even in day, it left me wondering of my existence because of the lack of people moving around.

A few buses going to and fro. Some groups of people making their entry and exit to the houses surrounding the alley and the roadside.

There, I saw him, Jun, waving at me from the outside. "Over here!" He screamed. He still wore his purple flannel shirt that suit him so much. "Danny, c'mere!" Beside him, there stood another man wearing a blue jacket and gray jogging pants. He also has white running shoes on. The clincher must be the black glasses and the cane.

I stopped to aide Jun and the stranger. When I did, Jun's not around anymore. The stranger who had his thumb raised immediately sighed and mouthed his thanks to no one. "Are you lost?" I rolled down my mirror and asked.

"To be honest," he answered, laughing a little. "I don't know how far I've gone, so I'm pretty certain to be lost in Tawi-tawi and almost near the sea already." He gestured to his black glasses and the cane. Pretty much telling his condition. "I'm blind. But, that's not my name, I'm Jaden Kamenari, by the way. I used to be a doctor, but I'm just lost and blind now. Oh—oh... I have something clever for that. I'm a hitchhiking ghost in the ghastly Balete Drive. I'm changing my scene from Tawi-tawi to Balete."

"No, stop," I said. "Isn't it unsafe that you're outside given your condition? You're even on the roadside."

The blind stranger puts his index finger to his lips. A grin making its appearance this time. "That's a good question," he said, "it's because you... suck, you fat dark blob!" Then, he roared in laughter, leaving me sighing. I should've left him, really, yet seeing Jun earlier reminded me of my promise and even though I find his grin so annoying, I think I should really help him, right? Like, really, really, right? "Oh, wait! I'm sorry, please, don't leave. I really need some help but not to get home. I need to be as far away from here as possible."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I have nothing to lose. People might find me pitiful, but I'm basically over my pity party phase. I need to hear out the call of adventure this time."

Oh, Jun, am I doing the right thing? Sighing, I opened the door to the passenger seat and got down of my car. "Please, enter," I said. "I'm Daniel Choi, by the way. Just like you, I also have nothing to lose except maybe loneliness and being lonesome. I hope you're prepared to be alone with me. I'm pretty chatty."

"Oh, that makes the two of us," he said. "And, don't mind me, I'm not going to protest if you're to bring me anywhere."

"You're strange," I said. I made sure that he sat comfortably and that his seatbelt is locked. "Really, really strange."

"I'm not," he said, laughing. "I just happen to have a lot of unearned confidence. I think it's required in an ableist world. Otherwise, they'll walk all over you."

"Comfortable?" I asked.

He nodded, and even with a heavy heart, I proceeded to drive.

———

From: David Watanabe  
To: Daniel Choi

Daniel,

Good afternoon, Daniel. (I hope you don't mind I'm using your first name.) This is David, by the way. The nurse who asked you about the color of the sky earlier.

I know I promised you that I'm going to send my writing, but I'm not doing the usual news clipping and articles that you do. I shifted my interest to literature. Poetry, specifically. I also write songs, but I don't think I'm getting any better since I'm not entirely confident of my abilities. I also delve in a few creative nonfiction, but I'm just too shy to share it.

Anyway, I sent you this message, because I want you to know that I'm taking it seriously and with gratitude that you want to see and read my writing.

I'm very grateful of your generous offer.

David

———

From: Daniel Choi  
To: David Watanabe

David,

Hello, David! And, yes, you can call me Danny, too, if you want. I'm used to being called Danny that Daniel sounds like I'm going to be reprimanded, but either is fine for me.

In terms of your writing, is that right? You're crossing over to fiction and poetry now? I think that's great. Literature is flexible, and it gives you a chance to explore events in a way that articles and news clippings would be too rigid to allow. Also, I think you're a phenomenal writer, given that you have a good control of your language in your writing.

Just send it over, really. It would be very cool to read and react on your work.

Anytime, David. And, don't mention it. Thank you.

Danny

———

The year was 1999.

I sat outside the house, carrying the portable radio with me as I awaited the broadcast of the events in East Timor. My father was the war correspondent of a broadsheet in the Philippines, then. And, he's providing the harrowing details of the erupting violence towards the East Timorese due to their choice of independence.

I couldn't believe it, at first. I could still hear my father speaking—his eloquent manner of providing details that seemed to give justice to the experience of the people who only wanted freedom. He described the treatment as barbaric, for their convoy was attacked by the militia. In addition, the Indonesian soldiers forced their way in thru smashing the windshield of the convoy using machetes, clubs, and sticks.

He also said that there were 200,000 refugees and that many were being forced to Indonesian-controlled West Timor.

After that detail, I remembered my mother stepping out, ordering me to go to the nearest sari-sari store, for she's already preparing lunch. She seemed worried—anxious, I guess, because of the sweating. Though, I'm not really paying attention to her. God, forgive me for saying that, but when my father said that there were ten people who died already. Even my mother fell silent. We were just looking to each other, for it seemed like the line was cut. My father was just silent from the other line.

Silence.

Trickling. Falling. And, then, something.

Nothing turned to something when continuous pop echoed from my father's line.

Women started screaming. Some started running because of the relentless stomping that followed.

"I'm shot! Oh, they shot us!" My father groaned. "They're evil!" He shouted. "These people are evil."

Before, silence emerged once again.

I wanted to think, then, that the presence of silence meant that my father had run already. He found a hiding spot and was uncontrollably sobbing and scribbling at the same time.

Yet, he wasn't. He died in Dili during the 1999 East Timorese Crisis.

I didn't know how to react that time. To be honest, I fear the kind of silence that transpired during that broadcast. It was ominous. It was scary. It's something that I hear in my nightmares—or when I'm in a foreign city, crouching in the dark with a flashlight and writing for my life, silence is just not peaceful for me.

Perhaps it's the reason I couldn't focus when Jaden sat with his head leaning on the window. I couldn't tell if he's asleep or in deep thought, because he's not reacting at all. In fact, his breathing is stable enough that I thought he's already asleep.

"Are you looking at me?" He asked. "Please, tell me you are, I'm feeling heat from you, and it would freak me out if it wasn't you."

"I am, I am," I said, "I'm sorry. I'm just checking. You just stopped talking."

"Well, you stopped talking, too," he replied, laughing. "I thought you're too busy, plus you've replied to an email earlier, right?"

I nodded, but then, I remembered he's blind. "Yes, yes. It's for a friend."

"Ooh... A girlfriend?"

"No. The friend is a he, and I just met him earlier. He's a nurse, but he's into literature now. Could you believe that? I think literary arts take talent and skill in writing to make it work."

"Wow! Is he good?"

"I don't know, yet," I said. "I think he replied to the last message I sent, but I don't really want to crash this car, so I'm keeping my attention to the road."

"Of course, of course. And, by the way, you're driving pretty toight! I get pretty motion sick whenever I'm riding a car, but I'm miraculously fine here."

"Is that right? I guess, seven years of not driving didn't really affect me that much."

"Well, you're lucky. I never really learned how to drive. It sucks, because I could have been a great race car driver if I learned how to drive. Missed opportunity, you know? It sucks so bad."

"Driving isn't really all that," I said. "I think commuting is still perfect, unless you're stuck in traffic. Regardless of your disposition, traffic just suck so bad."

"Oh, don't mar the illusion for me, Danny. If you must know, having a disability is just annoying, but nothing beats blindness in the annoying meter. At least, for me, I'm a pretty visual person, see or not see, and it burns me so bad when someone says something amusing that involves sight and I couldn't picture it at all. Take driving, for example, and, I mean, long drives. I know the feeling and the sound; the smell, sometimes, but I yearned to see a stoplight again or a balete tree whenever I'm passing thru Balete Drive."

He sighed. He leaned back to the window with a humoring smile on his cheeks. "I just really want to see again. I want to see what it means to see the blue sky and the descending sun, but I'm far from operable now."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I really don't know what to say, because I've never had an extreme grievance that involved myself. I'm more prone to grieve whatever it is that the people I love tend to grieve. It's easy for me to manifest their pain that I learned to ignore what I felt."

"That sounds extreme," he said. "Are you a moral philosopher because if you are, I'm sure everyone hates you for it."

I snickered. This guy. He even shades moral philosophers. "I used to be a war correspondent," I said. He looked shocked, at first. But, his shock turned to amusement as he pushed himself off the window to listen intently to me. "Why are you sitting like that?"

"I don't know," he said. "You said, war, and my brain zoomed in, like, swoosh... and I'm just interested to hear your story."

"I don't think it's anything to prop myself, really. I see it as an imperative. My road to meaning. Other than that, it's far from a conversation you would want to have with a friend," I said. He nodded his head in agreement, but he still had that small smile on his cheeks that seemed to goad me into speaking some more.

"Imagine that," he said, "the great stranger I met is actually a kickass survivor of war. Have you been to Iraq?"

"Many times," I said.

"How about Libya?"

"Twice, I think. I interviewed Muammar Al-Gaddafi once. He threatened to kill me, or so I think. I tried getting an interview with Saddam Hussein, but he's too busy killing his people."

"Typical Saddam. So happy he's dead and is burning in hell."

"Oh, feisty!" I said.

"Damn, right, I am!"

"Well, that's fun, but war is not exactly a playground—you know. I have people who assumed that I'm being treated with five-star hotels and free ride to private planes whenever I'm visiting a land in conflict. They're dead wrong. It's far from a dream job, really, but if you have a clear picture of conflict in your head. You'd see that war is part of a greater power dynamics. It's resistance from each group. It creates ripples, and it tears through an illusion of a held agreement." I said. "My father used to say, you know, on a tube, to mind the gap." I used to think of my father as my hero, but when I started doing his work and fighting the fight he had. I realized he's also a victim. "And, that gap is important. You know, why? Because that gap will serve as a distance where one can rectify conflict. Without the gap, violence will fill it."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

He bit the inside of his lip. "When you mentioned your father, you seemed upset."

"I am," I replied. "His death crippled me emotionally."

Jaden didn't answer.

The same with my late father's last broadcast.

Silence.

Trickling. Falling. But, there's nothing.


	5. MEETING in the BEGINNING of PARTING

MEETING in the BEGINNING of PARTING

From: David Watanabe  
To: Daniel Choi

Danny,

THE LAST BODY

Across from me the whole ride  
Hardly stirred; just Sir with bare  
soil on his hand across the earth  
Promptly disheveled as the children  
watching got their heads and hands  
In between Sir's prodding The poison  
That replaces air disappeared  
And they sang—as if finding treasure  
For the first time from all the months  
Of waiting. Sir dropped the last gold  
I heard the clicking camera … the treasure is bones.

Hello, again, Danny.

Above this message is poem number 1. I tried improvising thru enjambment, and, you could see that I'm truly trying to find my rhythm. It wasn't easy, though, but I did look at the last picture you've taken and the words just left me.

I read some of the articles involving the massacre of the fifty-eight civilians, and how to this day, justice is still not served. I know that it would take time before the people responsible to the deaths paid their dues, but it left me to wonder, do people, like a poetic line, can find meaning thru enjambment of their thoughts. Not having a terminal punctuation. Never put to rest in thinking about the passing of those they value.

I hope these people from the photo you've taken would soon find the terminal punctuation to all the waiting they endured. I also hope that those who have to endure the continuity without their loved one find new words to add to their thought: justice, accountability, and above all, reform.

I hope you're having a good day, Danny. Thank you.

David

———

From: Daniel Choi  
To: David Watanabe

David,

Good evening, David! I'm sorry if I replied just now, but something happened today and the event itself is enough to make me unavailable the whole day.

I met some people. Strange enough, meeting them felt like a reunion—or a meet-cute, without all the romantic underpinnings. There I was, thinking of a proper word to describe it but, for posterity's sake, let's say I met people who I think I would vibe just fine without any problem.

I also included their image below, so feel free to criticize our lack of sense of style. Speaking of style, I'm today years old when I realized that there's a database where doctors who performed medical missions could track the health of the areas they're servicing. And, do you know that this is something they're proposing in the local government as a way to curve NTDs or Neglected Tropical Diseases.

Believe me, I got a tiny bit smarter remembering all of it after an episode, but another thing that I learned is that there's some resistance from the local govenment because of its cost. Apparently, creating and maintaining a database are expensive. You know, it's also very taxing because of some who are not cooperating e.g. boomers who are against data-collection and small-time trapos who are not willing to shed a small amount from what they stole.

So, Junkyu, the handsome man in between Jaden and I, is lobbying his proposal of a database to the Department of Health and is urging the the secretary of said department to check and give some time for the proposal because of its long-term effect in maintaining order in the sector of health among constituents.

Why did I tell you this, you might ask. The thing is, I don't know, but you're the first person I remembered at the brief mention of something medically-involved innovation. Also, I thought you might find it interesting that even in the rise of commonality of dengue fever, measles, and chickenpox, there are still plenty of recorded deaths throughout the years, especially in areas with high poverty rate. I find it preposterous, at first. But, I think there's a larger systemic bias at work here. Not surprised if it has something to do with the Imperial Manila and the urban-centric planning that somehow leave the rural lands and the hinterlands at the mercy of some cruel god.

Also, the other guy on the left is Jaden. I met him earlier. He's blind, but he's also a doctor, and he's both annoying and impressive. I guess I shouldn't have dismissed him as just my annoying companion for this travel, but he really needs to stop calling me a fat dink. If only he could see my rippling muscles.

Guess that's an if that I should just giggle on my own.

Have a great evening!

Danny

———

From: Daniel Choi  
To: David Watanabe

PS. Separate PS because of my only emerging understanding of the poem. At first, I thought it seems familiar, then I just read your email again and saw that you did reference the Modern Holocaust photo.

One thing I like about it is that you maintained the poem as subtle as possible because of the avoidance to use the words death or massacre. It gives a picture of yearning that led to an extensive effort to find the bodies of the people they love.

In terms of a terminal punctuation, was it? Or, a reference to enjambment. I find the poem as a speech of someone who passed and saw the efforts of those who valued his life and the circumstances of his death. Kinda like the subject of the picture, the one with the purple scarf.

There's just no period to my thoughts for the people who lost their loved ones. And, you know what haunted me from that experience? I felt relieved. I also felt pain, but I'm relieved that there were people who would pay for what they did.

It scared me. Because, I know I should be hurting, first, but I felt relieved.

Danny

———

The brain is a discounting mechanism. It's one of the first thing I learned throughout my journey, for I need to instill in my head that I needed novel experience because they signal danger. I can't be always fearful of a small gun because of bigger guns and bombs and other terrors brought by war.

Perhaps its the same reason knowing people is the least exciting thing for me. I just learned to discount any chance of knowing someone better because time would soon tell me that I need to branch out. It's like seeing a friendly face and thinking, they're really something, in the first few months. Afterward, there would be a dismissal. Oh, him, I might think. For the greater the knowledge becomes and the more significant it changes our understanding, the easier it is for us to want more and newer and better experiences or, worse, people.

In my case, though, I've never really tried to do anything after Jun's passing. Friendship? What's that? I've been accustomed of seeing danger and pain from people that when I go out and I see friendly faces smiling towards me, the sense of danger and pain avoidance immediately rang, and I just wanted to be away from them.

I think that's the reason I needed Xanax. People just have a way of making all my alarms blare.

But, with Jaden, I expected that he would give me a brief case of anxiety attack, like a stomach ache, but, now that he's playing with a clicker from the flashlight inside his pocket, yeah, I do have a stomach ache.

The ticking sounds reminded me of Jun and how he's always pressing on something whenever he's fighting his nerves.

"Are you nervous?" I asked.

"Yeah, a little," Jun answered. "I'm also excited, but I'm very worried that you might overwhelm yourself. You think I did wrong to challenge you to go out?"

"What could go wrong?" I replied. "I mean, I'm going to a fairly visited area and it's not like South Luzon is unfamiliar to me. Do you remember our long drives to go to Tagaytay just so we could eat Lomi and see the Taal Caldera?" His face suddenly brightened, and I could tell that the memory eased his nerves because his eyes smiled when he did.

"Just don't forget your meds, okay? You need to take your prozac as intructed by your doctor, and if you're having a headache, please, refrain from taking Xanax. Your shrink fears your pill-popping."

"That's mean!" I exclaimed, laughing. "Did he really say that word?"

He nodded, laughing boisterously that I feared he would startle the still busy Jaden from playing the small clicker in his pocket. "Yes, but it's just an assumption. Your mother raised it when you're taking it thrice a day."

"Oh, wow! Did I really take Xanax that much?"

"I'm not the type to judge someone's favorite finger food, but you made Xanax your replacement for roasted nuts. Which is bad, so don't do it anymore."

"Okay, okay," I said, shaking my head. "I haven't had breakfast, yet, so I might take my meds in a little while."

"What meds?" Jaden seemed to push himself forward, not looking to anyone in particular. "And, who are you talking to? Are you driving while having a call?"

Upon Jaden's entry, Jun promptly disappeared. "Oh, and also, is it prescribed? Are you seeing a shrink?"

"I see that you're eavesdropping with my conversation with Jun," I said.

"You know that we're literally sitting next to each other, right? We're sitting next to each other, right?"

I nodded.

"Please, speak," he said, fake crying. "I'm really freaked out of ghosts."

"Yes, yes. I'm next to you. Plus, I only have space for four people here."

"See," he said, gloating, "if you're to call me out for eavesdropping, please know that it's harder not to listen when you're shouting Prozac and taking lots of Xanax while laughing. It's crazy, scary."

I exhaled. "Oh, shut it, Jaden. I thought my voice isn't that loud, but, yeah, I'm taking meds. Just a few slip-up from what I used to do. I mean, I'm certain that I shouldn't have been uncertain in psychiatric help from when the bombs rain in Iran, but that's my mistake." I said, laughing. "Who knew that I'd have anxiety from all that?"

"Oh, come on," he answered. "There's nothing wrong with taking meds from something that is a real disorder. But, you have to promise that you're going to take Fluoxetine on time and on emergencies, okay?"

I couldn't help but smile with his genuine worry. I thought he's going to tease me about my depression, but he didn't, instead, he reminded me of what I needed to do. "Thanks," I said. Plus, he's really cool with the way he crossed his arms, nodding to me with a cocky smile. Cool and obnoxious. Mostly, cool, though.

"Don't worry," he said. A loud growl entered the scene, too. Must be his stomach because his face turned red.

"Someone's—"

"I'm hungry," he declared.

"—right, was just about to say it," I said. "Do you know a place to eat here in Cainta? Or, at least, I think we're in Cainta."

A small smile made its entry on Jaden's cheeks as he prodded his finger to his chin, briefly brushing it to his cute mole. "That's a good question," he said. He pushed himself forward smiling towards me. "It's up your mum's butt, you fat dink," he said.

I deserved that. "Right, blind. Sorry. Maybe you'd be into some fast-food stuff for now. I also really need to eat before I drink my meds, or I go cuckoo bananas."

He snickered. "I like that term," he said. "It really gives an essence to your experience."

"Just doing my job," I replied, grinning at him before shrugging. "Oh, there's a parking lot here. I think we'd do well here." I turned from the next junction and proceeded to the parking spots they had. Since I'm with Jaden, I proceeded to the spot for PWDs. Should I do it? I turned to Jaden who seemed excited. I exhaled and went anyway. "Here we go," I said. "Let me help you out of your seat."

He relented and leaned in, so I could reach the belt and unfurl it. "There you go." I also opened the door for him, so he could exit with no problem. He used his cane to prod the ground. "I also need to withdraw some cash," I remarked. Jaden nodded with no worries. "You want to follow me, or I'll just bring you to the guard and have him assisted you?"

"The former," he said. "I also need to get some cash, so if you'd be such a dear, can you help me withdraw, please?"

"Of course, granny," I answered, still grinning. Too bad he couldn't see how I'm clowning him, but then again, I'm not entirely great in teasing someone. "Hold on to my arm now," I said. He did. There's no hesitation at all, except maybe the redness on his cheeks.

The withdrawal didn't take too much time. I've spent three minutes to get money out of our cards, which is unimpressive, usually, but Jaden is thoroughly loaded. He asked me to withdraw five-thousand and ordered me to use it for any expenses he would incur and necessities to pay throughout the drive. Loaded, dare I say, while I just took out three-thousand from my dwindling funds.

"Welcome to Jollibee," the guard said.

"Say, could you help me out," I told the guard. "My buddy here's blind and I just need him to sit this one out."

"No problem," he said. "Am I going to lead him now? Does he need to order, first?"

"Oh, no, I'll just have the chicken with two fried rice. Large coke and fries, too." He withdrew his cane and took a hold of the guard's arms. He looked like a kid more than anything else. Plus, he also has that youthful look in him because of the unwavering smile on his cheeks. "Take care, whippersnapper," he said.

Was there any danger in the cashier? I shook my head, snickering as I proceeded forward. I presented my order and was about to pay the entire cost when someone from my back paid it for me. "I'll pay for their order," he said. "Just add the same chicken and fried rice meal," he added.

I looked from the source of the voice and saw a well-dressed man. He wore a white dress shirt with a black ribbon wrapped around the collar. He also has a grey cardigan that went over his belt. Perhaps the best accessory in him is his smile and how it shows the row of his perfectly-aligned white teeth.

"Oh, there's no need," I said, smiling at him. "You don't have to pay for two meals."

"No, no," he replied. "It's been like a decade since I last saw you, Danny, so, at least, let me pay for it."

"Do we know each other?"

He squinted an eye, not hiding the growing smile on his cheeks. "You might not remember me, but I will never forget you. You're the man who passed through the landmines without fear just to interview the people who were digging it. I think that's tomfoolery, too, but you just went through and saw the blast that killed four in a vehicle."

"Iraq, 2004," I said. "Are you a correspondent? Anyway, let's move to the side. I don't think I remember seeing you from the minefields."

"Oh, you wouldn't," he said, "because I'm a medic. I'm the one who treated your ears and leg."

"Oh, oh, are you Kim Junkyu?"

"The one and only," he said. "If you must need further jogging of memory, you also tried to interview me about the ratio of the mine victims and the air raid victims."

"That sounds like something I would do," I said. "I hope I didn't do anything to make your job difficult."

He waved my worries away, still smiling widely. "Here's our order. Where are you sitting anyway?" I looked around the establishment, trying to find Jaden's figure. Once, I found him, a small grin marked my cheeks upon seeing him playing of a clicker.

"Over there," I said. "I'm with a buddy, anyway. I hope you don't mind."

"That explains the really big meal I thought you'd eat alone, but sure, the more, the merrier."

"We're here," I told Jaden. "Anyway, we had another company. Turns out I have someone whom I briefly worked with during my time in Iraq."

"A trip to memory lane, huh? That's fun. I'm Jaden, by the way. The cooler part of the Danny and Jaden travelling duo." He said. He reached out his arm to the left whereas Junkyu is on the right.

"The other side, Jaden," I called him.

"Of course," he said, "and you must be?"

"And, I happen to remember you so well, Jaden. Junkyu, by the way, from the College of Public Health."

"Oh, please tell me you're not that dickwad who ordered my return to the Philippines after the Sri Lanka incident."

"That's a great memory you have there, Jaden." He laughed a little. I looked at the two of them as Jaden shook his head while Junkyu's giggling. "I'm the dickwad who did the right thing."

"Of course, you'd been sucking up to the director that you're willing to throw me under the bus," he said. "If you must know, Danny, he's been one of the volunteer medic during the uprising in Sri Lanka. And, he's been getting to my nerves because he's stopping me from joining the press during their march to meet the Tamil Tigers."

"But, the director is withholding information," Junkyu reasoned out. He sat down and took a big gulp of his drinks. "You'd be very happy to hear that I've had some falling out, for I took the blame for the incident. Who am I to place blame anyway? What happened already happened and you're not exactly the easiest to find."

"A lot of history from here, huh?"

"Very plenty," Junkyu said. "But, I'm all for the present now," he said. "So, what have you been doing lately, Danny? You, too, Jaden? Are you still an army reserve?"

Jaden and I shrugged instead of answering. I still think that we're still in the crossroads of finding what we wanted to do and that meant that we have to admit that we're not doing anything at all.

"Enough about us," Jaden said. "I'm seriously bored of talking about what I used to do. How about you, Junkyu," he said, "what kept you busy all that decade?"

He shrugged as well. "Still in the grey area of wanting to do something and actually doing something. So, I'm visiting places, usually, far-off cities and doing medical missions. I've been to Southern Leyte and Infanta during some relief operations," he said. "Though, I really wanted to be in Marawi, because I think some medical help is highly-needed there. Yet, my leg is a problem."

"How's it a problem?" Jaden asked. "Does it require amputation?"

"That's what I'm trying to prevent," he said. "So, right now, I'm still doing medical missions. I'm also proposing to have a health database nationwide, so we can monitor the health of the public."

"Is that right? How's the fight so far?"

"We're getting there," he said. "I'm urging some help from the secretary of health. It's not easy, but we pushed on and checked the things we could do for now."

"That's great!" I said. "If you need someone to cover the story, I could help out." I bit my lip, laughing at myself. Why am I offering my help again? I should be careful whenever I'm running my mouth.

"That's excellent," he said. "If you want, you can come with me now and we'd just dock in Real, Quezon and we'll be on our way pretty soon."

"Uh..." I uttered, scratching the back of my head. "I'm kinda with Jaden, and we're in a different destination. But, some other time," I said, smiling. "I'll surely find time to help out." I pulled out both Fluoxetine and Xanax from my pocket. I quickly gulped it.

"Are you okay?" Junkyu asked.

"Never better," I said. "Would you mind if I used the toilets? Please, look after Jaden, too."

"I'm not a kid," Jaden replied. He was grimacing like a kid, though. "Also, make sure you drink your meds, Danny."

"I already did," I said.

"No problem," Junkyu replied, smiling. "Go do your business."

As I stepped out, I took a last peek of them and how they seemed to huddle as they talked about something. I couldn't hear them from here, probably because of the gathering crowd inside the establishment.

When I entered, a tap from my shoulder resonated to me, alerting me immediately. When I turned around, there was Jun.

Yet, it wasn't the Jun I know. He stood with the same clothing from when I saw him earlier, but he's covered with soil. There were holes present on his torso that I went from standing to leaning on the wall. "Jun," I muttered. "What happened to you?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He touched my face. His hands were cold. His grip is weak. His body doesn't resemble the Jun I remembered. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I made you lonely."

No, no. He didn't. He didn't. 

———

From: David Watanabe  
To: Daniel Choi

Danny,

I'm glad to know you're well. I'm also happy that you like the poem I wrote. I hadn't had the chance to edit my writing lately.

Oh, yeah! I also found this article.

———————

PH ARMED FORCES AMBUSHED. EIGHT DEAD, ONE INJURED.

AUG XX, 200X

NORTH COTABATO, Philippines— Eight army reserved killed and a medic injured in an alleged ambush in Barangay Aringgay in Kabacan town past noontime Saturday.

The victims were on separate motorcycles en route to an interior area in Aringgay following the vehicle of Dr. Kim Junkyu when they were attacked by gunmen positioned along the road.

Local officials alleged the attack is sent to deter the entry of the press and the doctors.

North Cotabato's Kabacan town is having a measles epidemic during the attack.

The eight bodies are transferred to the hospital and will be brought to Manila tomorrow afternoon. Dr. Kim Junkyu, on the other hand, is making full recovery from a bullet wound on his leg and arm.

North Cotabato's chairperson of provincial peace and order said she has asked the LGU of Kabacan and municipal police to investigate on incident.

———————

Upon reading that, I could say that he's impressive, and you've even added his initiative to automate the tracking of health conditions among cities. To be honest, that should receive decent funding, but the Philippines, especially PI officials (please feel free to interpret PI as Philippine Islands, but I suggest Putang Ina as a better alternative), seems to have a strange fixation with the army.

I'm happy that Dr. Kim's well. And, you're right. He's a real looker. I searched for his other pictures, and he's hella good-looking when he smiled. It's also a plus that he's doing his service to the mass. I guess a helping hand would always be handy for him.

Also, I don't really want to pry, but who's Jun? You've written about him in your last article. I mean, I hope you wouldn't mind me asking. I'm just curious. I'm prying, I know. If you said, let's not talk about it, I wouldn't bring it up anymore.

Take care!

David

PS. Jaden seems familiar to me, but I don't know where have I heard of him.

———

From: Daniel Choi  
To: David Watanabe

David,

So, that's what happened to him.

I never really knew what happened to Junkyu, to be honest. Would you believe that we're long-lost acquaintance. Something I wasn't able to share from my earlier email, but we were. Of course, I remembered him from when he approached me. I couldn't believe that he's extending his services to the locals who the world seemed to forget.

He even had the gall to say that he never felt the impact of his help, for nothing ever changed within the circles he operated. He's even more annoyed that he felt useless from all the empty trudgings he had because some see him as a nuisance. You know what I told him? One is only ever a nuisance if they're persistent to make change. It's not like the change he wanted is impossible. The 'PI' officials are just afraid to put their dirty deeds on the surface.

Anyway, I'll be driving again in a few. I'm dropping Junkyu to Real Port, while Jaden and I will head straight to Infanta for some well-deserved rest. Or, at least, I'll try to rest. I don't really know what to do tonight.

Please, don't forget to rest, too.

Danny

PS. Jun is the love of my life, but they wouldn't publish it. LGBT relationships in workplace are still a hard-pressed issue among the journalism mafia, but sexual harassment isn't. You see, the more sordid it is, the more it is encouraged, but that's just my criticism.

———


	6. BOYS, BE AMBITIOUS

PHILIPPINE NATIONAL POLICE  
CRIME LABORATORY SERVICES  
AUTOPSY REPORT

ME. NO.: 20-3A78Z

CASE TITLE: GUNSHOT WOUND TO THE CHEST, WITH PERFORATION OF HEART AND LUNGS.

DECEASED: JUN PARK. SEX: M AGE: 34

DATE AND HOUR OF DEATH: 11-23-09; APPROXIMATELY 10:00 AM TO 3:00 PM

DATE AND HOUR OF AUTOPSY: 11-24-09; 4:30 PM

FINAL DIAGNOSES: 34-year-old man who got shot in the chest twelve times and on the genitals two times. He is buried in a mass grave along 57 others. He died instantly upon the third bullet pierced through his aorta.

———

Loneliness feels like melting. A process that would, usually, take you a year or two to notice, but, by then, your water is all gone and even in the effort of retrieving it, all is gone.

And, loneliness isn't foreign to me. As much as I want to pretend that I remained a fixed and strong figure, the truth is much of the water in me flowed out of my heart and brain and spirit, and it formed a river that seemed to flow to the eyes of Jun. The lost Jun and how my water seemed to fill the hole that would never close on his chest.

Jun.

The man I love and I lost in the process of chasing the next big thing that would fill the water in my loneliness.

Jun.

That even when he stood in front of me, I could still see the pain of what he endured. He has holes on his chest, but nothing seemed to come out of it, instead, it sucked the water that seemed to drip from the same hole on my chest.

Jun.

He approached me slowly, tears starting to well his eyes. "Danny," he muttered. "Do you feel alone most of the time?"

Not just most, I wanted to say. Yet, words won't leave me. I'm stuck within my effort to see beyond the dirt and blood on his clothing. Even in my attempt to blow air out, I inhaled deeply, for I felt a great sense of pity upon seeing him when he's not in great shape. "Danny," he mumbled. "It hurts. It only hurts. Are you lonely all the time?"

I nodded. He touched my cheeks softly, running his hand to my hair. "I thought so," he said, smiling. "You don't need to feel that way anymore, Danny," he added. "You don't need to feel alone and lonely anymore."

I shook my head, trying to prevent my tears from falling through a smile. "I don't know if that would ever happen," I said. "I might never find myself doing anything against this loneliness, because it keeps you alive. I fear that if I'm to be happy, I might lose you again."

He kept tousling my hair, and in the last ditch effort of holding my tears, I inadvertently let out a sniffle and then a sob. "I've lost people many times, Jun. My dad. My colleagues. People I fought for. You. I don't know if I could still afford to lose more people. I know it's normal, but I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone, Jun. I don't want to be alone."

My heart, draining of life and energy, that as Jun approached me, the bigger the gaping hole on his chest turned to be and the more powerful it sucked the water from my melting self. Darkness was starting to take over, but I couldn't stop smiling, for he hugged me tight. He led me upwards that even in the gradual entry of darkness, I'm still at my most happiest. "I'm sorry, Danny," he said. "But, you need to let me go now."

"I won't," I uttered. I embraced him tighter, inhaling the scent of musk from the soil and blood and the lingering vetiver mixed with death. "I will not lose you anymore."

Suddenly, my grip loosened, he's drifting away from me, taking all the water flowing out of my heart. "You already did," he said.

"Jun," I called. "Jun, please!" I shouted, but he's already far from me. He kept on drifting away and even when I fell, he just kept on drifting away.

I lost him again.

I lost him.

"You think we lost him already?"

Is that Jaden? The darkness was slowly re-adjusting itself, preparing some colors for when I opened my eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that, Jaden." That's definitely Junkyu who seemed to swallow the laughter he refused to release. "I'm pretty sure he's had a severe mood swing earlier. He should have taken his meds on time."

"Well, I didn't know," Jaden replied. "I mean, I just literally met him earlier and he only had a brief mention of the medicine he's taking. He's aware that he shouldn't drink both Prozac and Xanax at the same time."

"There's no use chastising anyone," Junkyu uttered. "Just, please, let him know of the intervals, or I might need to confiscate his Xanax just to avoid these adverse effects."

"Okay, doc," Jaden uttered. "And, wake up already, you butterface, your heat register changed already." He lightly tapped my forehead with his free hand, making me wince.

"Did you just call Danny a butterface?" Junkyu asked. Not holding his laughter anymore.

"Yeah, I did," he replied. "I have a set of nicknames for people who are annoying, just like you, a chump."

I pushed myself upwards, letting my body be free from the soft bed that reclined perfectly for my back. Junkyu smiled widely to me, but he's also shaking his head. Meanwhile, Jaden, who seemed worried gripped tightly to my hand.

"Welcome back, Danny," Junkyu muttered. He took off his cardigan and was left with his white dress shirt. "This would just be a routine, so please, just answer the questions as I check some of your vitals, okay?"

I nodded.

"Are you okay, now? We're a little worried of you," Jaden said. He let go of my hand as he scratched the back of his head. "You should have informed me that you're taking medicine already."

"I did," I replied. "But, you asked me a little late already."

"My bad for that," he said, "but, be responsible next time. It's good that Junkyu"—the mentioned gasped a little—"Shut it, Junkyu!" He shook his head, laughing boisterously. "Anyway, it's good that Junkyu knows the coordinator in the health center here in Cainta. I don't know where the hell we are, really, so I assume still in Cainta or somewhere on Earth. So, we're allowed to use the facilities."

"Oh," I uttered.

"Just an, oh, from all this trouble?" Jaden said.

"Okay, I'll take over from here," Junkyu said. He put his hand with the stethoscope inside my tank top to my chest. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Choi Daniel," I replied.

"Good!" He exclaimed. "Please, inhale… and exhale." He took the stethoscope away from my chest and went to my back. "Let's do the same thing, okay? Can you spell water for me?"

"W-A-T-E-R," I grumbled.

"Backwards," he said, squinting his eyes.

"R-E-T-A-W," I grumbled with no hitch.

"Good, inhale… and exhale." He took his board and wrote the details he just took from me. When he turned to me, his almond eyes seemed to smile just when he gave me a grin. "Let's check your response to light, okay?"

"Is this important?" I asked. "I feel well, Junkyu. I think I can return to driving again."

"It is," the grinning man replied. "I also remember telling you that this is a routine, right?"

I nodded. No use arguing, really. He pointed the dim flash of light to my left eye. "What's the color of the sky?"

"Blue," I said.

"In Jupiter..."

"Are you serious?" I asked.

Jaden even howled in laughter which is seconded by Junkyu who seemed to be enjoying the sudden creasing of my brow. "Of course not. That's all for now, I think. I'm glad that your lucid self is back, and so is your healthy body."

"Thank you," I said. "What happened today is so weird."

Both of my company looked at me with worry, at first, but Junkyu relented and went back to documenting my answer. On the other hand, Jaden who parted his hair in the middle kept his eyes trained to me.

"Are you okay?" He asked. He grabbed his cane to stand, but he also sat on my bed. "You made a loud scream there hours ago."

"Loud scream? Where?"

"At the toilets of Jollibee. You locked the door, so we have to get the key to one of the crews. You shouted, Jun, and I'm not entirely sure of what happened next because when we arrived, you're already sprawled on the floor." He kept his gaze trained to me, but apart from that, I knew he couldn't see me, yet it felt like he's watching my soul speak. "I really don't want to pry, but who's Jun?"

"Jun? Why are you asking?"

"You've been speaking to him lately," he replied, "but, I don't think he's with us. It seems like you're talking to yourself."

"That's not the case," I uttered, a bit harder than my usual reply. "He's always with me." I stopped. What am I saying? Goodness! Am I really going cuckoo bananas? "Now that I'm hearing what I'm saying, I also heard how crazy that sound. Oh, Jaden," I said. "I'm always yearning for Jun that seeing him has been part of my nature."

"Do you miss him?"

I smiled, shaking my head. "Always. I never stopped thinking of him since the time he left me. And, you know, that wanting manifested into something I really wanted to see, ergo, his apparition whenever I'm having an intense mood swing."

Jaden grabbed my hand, as if feeling my heat as he pressed lightly on my palm. Even the occupied Junkyu stopped on typing and faced me. I put my head on Jaden's hand for tears fell one by one. "I mean, it's Jun. He can be very critical, but he's always wanting to improve something, be it himself or the people and the system around him. He also prefers to be present that I'm accustomed of his touch and kisses. We're pretty intimate." My voice broke. I bit my lip to prevent the sobs from coming out.

"And, then?" Jaden asked again.

"Jaden!" Junkyu interjected. "Stop it. He might not want to talk about it."

"Trust me on this one, Junkyu," he said. "Danny needs to air out and address some of his trauma."

"But," Junkyu muttered. Instead of answering, he reclined the bed so I could lie down. "Please, lie down, Danny. And, you're allowed to share as minimal as possible but be honest to Jaden."

"Please, continue, Danny."

"I don't know what to say, really," I said. "Other than, he's dead."

"That, I reckoned pretty well," he said.

"Is the Jun you mentioned the late Park Jun?" Junkyu quipped.

"The political correspondent, Jun Park?" Jaden asked.

"Right," I said, "but, even without that title, he's already impressive. I think I've been in love with him all my life, for he's brave and not afraid to challenge authority for a reform. He's also an intense lover. He taught me everything I know about lovemaking."

"What happened to him?" Jaden asked again. His brows creasing.

"He died, seven years ago. He called his project in Maguindanao as boring and unnecessary, but it's a bit of a big deal because one of the candidates is threatened to be chopped to pieces if he were to file his COC." I also remembered fully that I'm preparing for my trip to Afghanistan when Jun stopped reading my and sending me messages.

"Ampatuan Massacre," Junkyu muttered. "I'm so sorry, Danny."

"I mean, I knew that the threat is ominous, but I never stopped him. I saw him as someone who could withstand fear and death because of his belief that death gives meaning to the events of his life. Believe me, he defended that to me many times, but I always answered that I understand and death is normal. Normal. But, then, he died, and suddenly, I don't understand why. I don't understand why they need to shoot him fourteen times to ensure he's not to speak of the experience ever." I exhaled, shaking my head. "I don't know if one would ever be well with that knowledge."

"I'm sorry, Danny," Jaden muttered.

Junkyu stood up and hugged me, too. "I'm also sorry, Danny. They will soon be convicted. Those people would get their punishment soon."

I couldn't hide the smile on my cheeks as Jaden also joined the embrace. "I want to be part of things, too," he said. Junkyu sniffled as he let out a small giggle.

"I'm ready to return to the road," I said. "Is my car here?"

"I hope you don't mind that I used it," Junkyu said, wiping his cheeks. "I need to drive you from Jollibee to here," he said.

"Are you sure, though?" Jaden asked.

"You need to see your sunset, right? And, I need to extend some effort to be more of a journalist and less of a menace."

"It's eight p.m. now, Danny," he said.

"Really?" I returned. Both nodded.

"Plus, where are you going at this hour?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Though, if it's already dark, Jaden and I might just head to my shared house with Jun in Infanta."

"Infanta, you said," Junkyu said, jumping up. "Can I hitch a ride from here to Real Port? I thought of commuting, but, since you're driving and you're passing there, anyway, I might as well save the cash."

"Cheapskate," Jaden remarked.

Instead of taking offense, Junkyu let out a loud laughter. "And, we're just having a tender moment earlier. Oh, the duality."

"Shut up, Junkyu," he replied.

I got up from the bed and took the key from Junkyu who handed it to me anyway. "Let's go," I said, extending my hand to Jaden who didn't hesitate to take it. He smiled at me—not saying anything when he pressed my hand again. "You ready, Junkyu?"

"I'll meet you two outside. I need to speak to Dr. Takata," he said.

He immediately exited, leaving me with Jaden who was shaking his head and giggling.

"He's so fake," he said. "Anyway, Danny, would you mind telling me more about Jun some other time?"

I nodded my head, not saying anything. I know Jaden didn't know my response, but with the way he smiled, I know he gets what I mean.

———

CHICKENPOX EPIDEMIC RECORDED WORSE IN POLILLO ISLANDS WITH AN UPWARDS OF 1000 INFECTED NEXT WEEK

— Dr. Kim Junkyu (center) leads the team of sanitation volunteers to clean the health facility before opening it to public. He's also the brain behind the automation of health tracking to prevent another epidemic which is a hot topic in the senate at this moment. —

November 2X, 20XX

Polillo Islands' Chickenpox epidemic has exceeded 800 cases, the health ministry said on Monday, with a predicted 200 more cases next week.

Health workers didn't expect the virulence of the latest epidemic that seemed to by-pass the immunity of those who had the disease already. The spread is made worse due to the lack of vaccination among the people in the city. There are also reported cases from people who are vaccinated but experienced fever and blisters.

Dr. Kim Junkyu leading the NTD Eradication Initiative said that they haven't seen a case as worse as the one they saw in Polillo. He pointed out that the Health Ministry of Polillo is quiet about the contagion that swept the population.

He also called out the lack of action among LGUs in educating the public about the importance of vaccination. He said that the epidemic could have been prevented if there's a proper sanitation and tracking of the infected.

The inaction led to public mistrust in Polillo Islands where the epidemic has struck and it hampered the response, complicating the fight against it.

Dr. Kim Junkyu is requesting for donation and for volunteers to help out and reach out.

———

"You still awake, Jaden?"

He remained motionless. I know I just met him today, but I'm starting to wonder what's he thinking. Whenever possible, he maintained distance without the need to quip to conversations. He would just smile in a chagrined accepting manner and present himself to be scrutinized.

I assume it has something to do with blindness, that he's less contentious of attention because of the lack of distinction with human reactions. He doesn't see whenever I'm rolling my eyes or shaking my head when it comes to his wisecracks.

It feels like there's a sort of barrier enhanced upon us that prevented him from speaking once the topic of the past entered.

And, Junkyu did go to that direction when he opened a conversation about what we used to do.

What we used to do and what we used to be.

I'm not entirely sensitive of my shortcomings from the years that already passed. I have this blind acceptance of fate that I did all and did everything in my power to bring out the truth. But, some truth just wouldn't let itself to unravel. Some truth is just elusive for people chasing it.

And, my truth is, I've been complacent of my situation whereas instilling change is still possible.

Gah! I hate this.

Is that the same for Jaden?

Does he also chase a certain truth that is not death but is also not life? Jun used to say, life is empty without an existence, and existence means taking part of the global empire humanity built. And, only then, death will be meaningful if one existed within a web of connections.

Does Jaden wish to understand his case? I'm not him, and this might sound mean, but I know that if I were to be blind, I would be prevented from doing my job and that also meant that my trudgings are over.

A rapid clicking noise emanated once again from his pocket. He panned his head up and looked at me. "What does the outside look like?"

"Dark," I said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "But, there's also a hint of light from the houses near us. There's also a huge tree at the yard." I opened the door, and he withdrew his cane and stepped out. "Why'd you ask?"

"I don't know," he said, chuckling. His voice is soft as the whispering wind from the shore in front of our house. "I'm just thinking that if you were blind and you're in a new place, then who are you?" He panned his head to the side and squinted his eyes so tight. "I'm thinking I'm a ghost in a ghost land and doing ghost stuff."

"What do you mean?"

"Nevermind," he said, scratching the back of his head. He has a shy smile on his cheeks that seemed to glow fainter and fainter. "I'm sure that all this talk is just exhaustion speaking."

"You know you can tell me what's bothering you, right?" He nodded. "You're basically under my care, for you're in my car, in my house, and in my space."

"I just wish that I can see properly and not this speck of color that served nothing. You know how when you're looking from a binocular and you can only ever see the right amount of light. Anything more than the right amount, any point for distinction is blurred."

"So, you can still see?"

"I don't know. I think my left eye is not as busted, but it's far from salvageable. I can see some colors, but I need to take a right amount of light for it to work," he said. "Whatever that meant."

"Is that the reason you're wearing the visor?" 

He shook his head. "No, I just looked cool with this visor."

I didn't stop myself from laughing. He grabbed a hold of my arm, and followed my track. "Of course you do," I replied. But, he does look cool from where I'm watching him earlier and how silence seemed to suit him well.

How silence seemed to be him but discarded it when things changed.

I suddenly remembered my conversation with Junkyu. They went to Sri Lanka during the height of a civil war in between the Tamil Tigers and the Sri Lankan Peace Corps.

All memory I had of that time was following Marie Colvin's path thru the articles she had written.

Yet, I didn't know that Jaden was a volunteer during those period of guerrilla activity.

"Would you mind giving up shotgun, Jaden? I wanted to catch up with Danny, too."

That's how the ride began for us. He waved good bye to Dr. Takata and told him that they were to meet in Real on Friday. Two days from now, so they can leave for Polillo together.

"Umm… Why don't you... roll over your mom and do it yourself, you fat dink!"

Junkyu pouted while Jaden remained headstrong. "Why are you so mean to me?" Yet, he immediately broke into a peal of robust laughter as Jaden made face to him. "Okay, okay! You'll keep shotgunning for now," he said.

"So, just Real for you, Junkyu?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Just the port is perfect. The guys are already there, and I'm feeling bad that I made them wait. They're very patient people, since I told them I've had some medical emergencies to consider."

"Oh, is that right? Why are they waiting for you?"

"Oh, I forgot telling the whole thing, huh?" Junkyu said. He giggled a little. He pushed his face on the space in between my and Jaden's chair. "There's a chickenpox epidemic in Polillo, and we're bringing some antiviral medicines to curve the contagion. So far, the logistics is a pain in the ass, but it's a pain I'm willing to take."

"You sure are doing a lot," I said. "I think I'm only ever responsible with displacing myself. Other than that, I'm just as useless in anything figures."

He laughed. "It's the reason there are people responsible to it. Jaden is so good with logistics that I just learned all I know about it from him. Of course he used to shout at me whenever I'm making a mistake."

"Kinda like what he did now, huh?" I said.

"Oh, no, serious. Much more serious. I think he called me incompetent once."

"I apologized to you during the outreach," Jaden cut him. The other man just grinned. "Plus, it's your fault for mistakenly adding another zero, and I have to fix it for you which meant I have to start over."

Junkyu laughed. "I know, I know, but I'm telling Danny that you're not the banter type because of your hard-boiled serious self."

Jaden just shook his head and leaned to the window. "Is that right?" I asked. "So, there's a chapter for Jaden where he's very serious?"

"It's the entire book for me," he said, "but, it's not interesting. Let's just talk about the logistics you need to work for Polillo."

A hint of concern seemed to take over Junkyu's face. He didn't press it, though, especially when Jaden sounded exasperated. "Right," he said, "It's a far-flung space from Quezon. You know how Calabarzon should be prosperous but not all is as blessed. That's the case for Polillo. They still need clean water from time to time. Electricity is not always sure, too."

"Really? That's unfortunate," I said.

"For the locals, it is. The municipality is getting support, but I don't understand why they're still poor. Sometimes, I fear that the funding is kept within the urban sprawls, for they yielded a bigger income."

"That's usually the case, I mean, remember Iraq, Junkyu? The money never left the city, too. Any place that is not Baghdad will have a bad time."

"Yeah. I pity the people who couldn't fight the tyranny they're in. But, in terms of the Philippines, there's just an odd way of showing an imperial control. For others, it's a game of I hope you survive."

"Now, I feel bad," I said. "But, I admire your dedication to help. It's not always a medical practitioner would want to help the mass."

"I learned it from Jaden," he said. "No joke, really, he joined our director who volunteered to help out the press who will cover the peace talk in Sri Lanka, and he's the first person to present himself to accompany the journalists. He's an expert in first aid, and his ability came in handy whenever an emergency arrives."

"Really, you did that, Jaden?"

"It's the reason I'm blind," he said. "It's the reason I'm like this."

Junkyu and I fell silent. We didn't know how to keep the conversation going, and even in the attempt to resuscitate it, we're left exhaling—always exhaling.

The memory of that conversation, and Jaden's last line kept me on my seat the entire drive to Real and to Infanta.

A reason. 

He mentioned it like it's evil, but before I could air my thoughts, I remembered myself and Jun and my stoppage.

It's the reason of my being now, and I hated it, too.

Entering the house with Jaden instead of Jun. Being inside the happiest place of my life and not wanting to return, but here I am, seeing the framed articles Jun had written.

"Jaden," I whispered.

"Yes," he replied.

"How do you want to join Junkyu's initiative?"

"The automation? Isn't that a senate thing?"

"Not that, the medical mission," I said. "Let's help out. It can be a new reason of being—and maybe, that reason would be prettier than what we have now."

"What's this about?"

"I don't know either, but you're an expert in medicine, said Junkyu, and you'd be indispensable there."

"You're talking crazy, Danny," he said.

"Then, I could cover the event and write about it," I said. "This is it. The effort."

He seemed annoyed of my talking, but I didn't let it deter me. "What effort?"

"The effort not to be a menace," I said. "Oh, darn! The mind reels!"

"Is it necessary?" He asked.

"You can think about it."

He scrunched his face a little. Seemingly thinking about my suggestion. "Oh, what the christ! Ask me on Friday." He let go of my arm, heading straight to the sofa.

"And, the answer has to be a yes," I said. I couldn't stop smiling as I stepped in and went to the kitchen.

"Whatever," Jaden replied. "I'm hungry again."

I poked my head out, still grinning. I know he couldn't see me, "the answer has to be a yes," but I said it in the most annoying sing-song voice I have.


	7. WHAT HAPPENS ONCE can HAPPEN TWICE

From: Daniel Choi  
To: David Watanabe

David,

Have you heard of the panopticon?

If you have, then I would like to congratulate you because of your intensive knowledge of ethics. On the other hand, it's the first time I heard of it, and it is an assertion I heard to counter Dr. Kim Junkyu's initiative of an automated health tracker.

If you're the same as me, like, not exactly knowledgeable of all theoretical ethics, panopticon is a concept introduced by Jeremy Bentham and it is comprised of an observation tower placed in between a circle of prison cells. The inmates within the cells don't know that they're being observed for they couldn't see the guard from the observation tower.

You might be asking now, what the hell, Danny? It's three a.m. and why are you discussing panopticon instead of, I don't know, sleeping?

The answer is, I read all of the articles regarding the initiative of Dr. Kim Junkyu. I've seen his arguments and I agree that the decision is on the right path, especially, in maintaining public health. In order to rid myself of bias, I also check the counterarguments and most counterarguments fell to the idea of having a National ID.

Dun. Dun. Dun. The national fucking ID.

As usual, a hot button issue is opened in the conversation, but it's an important conversation to have. Jaden told me, that in the manner the automation has been passed on to law, there should be one number to address a citizen where all of their activities: be it tax, social security, and health insurance, are connected. I thought it would be convenient, at first. But, then, he mentioned the term panopticon, too, that with the number it would be easier to surveil the citizen, and it could be done without their knowledge.

People such as activists, journalists, and whistleblowers could find themselves in trouble. Even your average daily citizen can have their data at the hands of the ruling power.

This would regulate all activities and would meant that censorship would be as easy to implement, and that's all because of a national id.

Goodness! Even I fear constant surveillance, for I want to investigate and put out the reality of what's happening among those who are trapped in a struggle.

Anyway, I'm sorry for sending this pestering email, but Jaden's statement regarding discipline blockade bothers me. Who can live in that state of constant surveillance where every little thing is regulated by the ruling power?

The world gets even more complicated every day.

Sleep well.

Danny

PS. Jaden and I were in Infanta now. The wind is so darn cold. It's great that I kept all the comforters inside an airtight container, so none would smell like mildew.

———

From: David Watanabe  
To: Daniel Choi

Danny,

Good morning! I hope you still slept after that email. In my case, I just woke up and I'm primed up for work later. There has been a change in my schedule, so I'm going to the hospital in the morning.

Regarding Panopticon, I think I heard of it during my intense fascination with Michel Foucault, but the fascination never really flies because of my renewed interest in fiction. It's a surprise, though, that the ethical theory is used to deter the plan for automation. To be honest, a social security number would do among citizens to track the subjects of the database. In addition to that, if people fear detection and constant surveillance, wouldn't it be better to improve the system instead of making do with an already existing and deeply flawed system?

I think the health sector needs major improvement to surveil the health of the public. I know the system in the Philippines is not exactly susceptible to cause a pandemic, but, in an actual pandemic, the Philippines would be vulnerable when the spread is already there.

Anyway, I don't want to dampen your mood today, but there's a news coverage of the epidemic in Polillo. It's just chickenpox, yet twelve children already passed. That hurts me as medical practitioner. Something that is curable killing an infected person. They're asking for volunteers and donations, but it's sad that I couldn't present myself, I'm doing a lot in the hospital already.

I'm following the reports written by Dr. Kim Junkyu, and I have to admit, I'm curious how he faced the numerous war against the gravest dangers we have encountered, such as SARS and MERS, without the fear that it might cause his death.

You're just like him, always on the run for the next big story.

David.

————  
FAMILY OF VICTIMS MARK 8TH ANNIVERSARY OF MAGUINDANAO MASSACRE

— The Modern Holocaust, by the Pulitzer award-winning photographer, Choi Daniel, which features the excavator used to bury the slain civilians, and the body of the notable political commentator, Jun Park, on the claw of the excavator.—

NOVEMBER 2X, 201X

AMPATUAN, Maguindanao— The relatives of the victims of the Maguindanao Massacre visited the site where the bodies of their slain loved ones eight years ago.

Less than a week before the anniversary of the single deadliest election-related violence in the Philippines, the relatives along with the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines offered a mass at the site of the mass grave and renewed their call for justice.

Fifty-eight people including thirty-two journalists are killed and buried using an excavator in a mass grave on November 23, 2009.

Almost 200 people, including the clan of the Ampatuan, were charged for the killings.

The attack was allegedly led by Datu Andal 'Unsay' Ampatuan Jr. and carried out by the rest of his family.

————

From: Daniel Choi  
To: David Watanabe

David,

Thank you for your prompt reply.

Sad to say, I didn't get a wink of sleep at all. Instead, I put my attention to prepare a decent breakfast for myself and Jaden. I hope he likes sausages and corned beef, for it's all I have in my kitchen. I'm still not in the mood to visit the market and haggle and get annoyed at the forming crowd.

Now that you've mentioned Junkyu, too. I think you should also look into the profile of Dr. Jaden Kamenari. The blind man who is accompanying me from my travels, but he wasn't always blind. I saw his last picture in action and he's in Sri Lanka, tending to the journalists who are entering the den of the Tamil Tigers (they're not animals, by the way. They're a guerilla faction offering peace talks to the Sri Lankan government), so they can leave the place unscathed, or at least, minimize the chance of grave danger.

I'm also teasing him last night that he should join me in Polillo Islands, and we'd help out as a way of curving the struggle and finding our new reason of being, but he's one tough cookie to crack. Which I don't mind at all, really. I just thought he would be indispensable since he's still a doctor and he has an encyclopedic knowledge about medicine, at least, that's how Junkyu described him.

Oh, yeah, it's too bad you can't volunteer for the medical mission, but I guess keeping track from time to time would help you, so that when a free time emerged, you could volunteer. I promise to introduce you to Dr. Kim Junkyu and Dr. Kamenari Jaden.

You'd love their tandem.

Go save a life today.

Danny

————

"Wake up, Jaden!" I kept on shaking him to pick himself up. He groaned a little, pushing me away. "Wake up! I'll let you experience the first part of the Infanta morning!"

Jaden didn't relent, instead, he put a pillow on his face and forced it to his face tightly. "You know, I don't really want to do this to you, since you're wearing Jun's pajamas," I said, "but I'm annoyed of you for not wanting to experience a sunrise."

He didn't move. Just like Jun. The struggle we have whenever together is making him take breakfast, even when I prepared to cook for him already. Jun would just prefer the warmth of his bed over the warmth of the meal I prepared.

Whenever that happened, I would just pick him up from the bed and bring him downstairs.

That's the thing I did for Jaden, too, I picked him up and I bolted downstairs. "What the fuck, Danny!" He screamed. "I don't think the sun is up already. What's the rush?"

"Well," I said, putting him down to a chair. "I cooked breakfast, and I don't really want to eat alone. Plus, if this is your first time here, then the beachfront would immerse you with one of the best sunrise I saw in my entire life."

"You're a dick," he said, taking the glass of orange juice I put near him. "You could just tell that you had breakfast ready instead of carrying me like ragdoll down here."

I didn't hide the laughter that escaped my lips as I prepared my morning run of caffeine. "Of course, I apologize for making this your best morning to date. Would you like to return to being a ghost in a ghost land doing ghost stuff?" He scrunched up a scowl before he broke into a smile.

"Fine, fine," he said. "But, next time, give me a heads-up that you carry your guests downstairs, so I might have put on a few weight."

"You're chubby as you are already," I said.

He frowned. "Chubby and handsome," he said. "Don't forget the handsome part. Thick boys need appreciation, too."

"As usual, great work in blowing your own horn," I said. "You must be good in modesty, huh?"

"No, duh!" Jaden replied.

I shook my head, giggling. This feels like the first night I shared with Jun—granted that we also had a lot of sex, but there's always a pleasant air of calmness surrounding us that I felt to be the same with Jaden. Of course, it's still very fun to tease him, for he reacts with his face and not much in words.

"Anyway, I prepared corned beef and sausages. I also had the usual fried rice. Do you want either corned beef or sausages, or do you want both?"

"Both, please. I'm really hungry since three a.m. and I just don't want to bother you when you're sleeping."

"Oh, I didn't," I said, chuckling. "I couldn't sleep last night, so I just read some articles and watched the documentary Junkyu sent to me earlier. He passed this really funny video about the history of the world, too. It's so random, really."

"How's he coping with the attention?" Jaden asked. He used his fork to find the food from his plate. He expertly prevented the fall of rice and strings of corned beef from the edge of his plate using his spoon. It's almost like a clock panning to the side where the line is present.

"Junkyu?" I returned. He nodded, taking a spoonful of his meal. "I think he's having a triumphant moment," I said. "I know that it's stressful to be branded as someone promoting constant surveillance, but it's better to be the cause and the one who stirred the uproar of the masses. At least, they have an idea about the importance of their voice."

"Typical," he said. "He's been very stubborn about persevering to make people speak about what they need. He thinks that brings the change out in the world, but some can be engrossed with the mob that they forget order."

"Well, I think that's a fresh change. That power, especially, in a matter of great decisive change, is in the say of the constituents. I mean, I've heard of the worst censorship and regulation during my time as a foreign correspondent. I've experienced journalists fleeing Iraq and fearing for their lives because of threats to their lives."

"Did you leave?" Jaden asked. He cocked his head to the side, like a child. I whipped away the rice on his cheeks which made him wince.

"I didn't. I'm also stubborn with my perseverance, and I know to myself that state-funded killings of journalists meant that the government still has a fear and that fear can be shown to the constituents so they would stand up for themselves."

"Sounds like a fight worth fighting," he said. "Have you taken your medicine?"

I nodded, stirring my coffee. "I just did," I said. "I really don't know what to feel, too, this is the first time I didn't see Jun. It's even the anniversary of his death today. You think he really want me to let go of him?"

He shrugged.

There's no forgetting the gravity of his death to me. It's loneliness. It's a hole in my chest and that I'm exposed to the heat of the world wanting me to move forward and that I'm melting.

I'm melting.

I'm melting.

"I don't think he meant what you think he meant," he said. "He must be requesting for you to let go of him and find something to cling to. I'm not an expert with psychology, Danny, but I'm here as someone who would challenge the negative from you. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted you to cling to hope once again."

"Is it easy?" I asked. "Have you clung to hope in the hopes that it would change things around you?"

He shook his head. He frowned, at first, but then, it changed to a smile. "Never. I've never been the hopeful, for I wanted to be prompt with decisions. But, when you're without prompting, those who are hoping kept on moving." He took a big gulp of his orange juice and directed his attention to me. "I understand that you're also not the type to be hopeful, but we're all digging our way out of the hole of loneliness, for we knew that there are those enduring the worst that we wanted to prevent others from experiencing the worst."

"Are you sure you're not the hopeful type? That speech is pretty much a hopeful speech."

"Shut up, Danny," he said, laughing. "I know you need the encouragement. Don't fear the hope you're finding. I'm sure Jun left those chances of hope to and for you."

That's right, and since yesterday, I saw the world as vast but empty and filled with good but without the space for it. However, when Jun asked me to head outside and help someone out, some changes started appearing. The vast but empty world could be filled with people who are just like me, making their way in this world and trying to join the global empire humanity built. The world filled with good but without the space for it was just waiting for people to bring it out to others.

I forgot that the maxim of humanity remained to be the same: that people help the people.

"You want to go out?" I asked.

"Huh? Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, Jaden," I said. "I just thought you might want to see the sunrise."

"Okay, that startled me. I thought you want us to fight outside."

"What, why?" I stood up and extended my hands to him. "And, you don't need to change. Just grab your visor and go. I'm still wearing my pajamas, too," I said. He took my hand and followed my steps.

When we stepped outside. The sun is already up, for we could feel the warmth of its rays on our skin. "Oh, darn!" I exclaimed. "We missed it." I sighed and groaned, panning him to the beachfront.

"So warm," he said, "I miss this."

"Really?" I asked. I looked at him, and I could tell that he's pleased for he spread his arms to bathe himself of the light. I stood up and copied him.

"Yeah," he replied. "I thought this would be an annoying feeling because of the pajamas and all, but I'm happy to have stepped out and saw the sea again."

"You can see it?" I asked.

"You can't?"

I opened my eyes in disbelief and looked at him. "Of course, I could see the sea, but you're blind," I said. "You can really see it?"

He nodded. "From my left eye, I could see the parting clouds from the horizon which the sea seemed to imitate in the ripples." He exhaled. "You know, I always thought that the view of the sea always changes." He cocked his head to me, smiling. "I mean, my view did, but the sea, never."

I looked at him, half-expecting that Jun would appear. I mean, would it be bad that Jun would join me at the beachfront and bathe ourselves in the light? Sighing, I put my arm down and sat on the sand. "That's the same for me," I said. "My view changes, but the sea, never."

————  
KIM JUNKYU'S NOTE FOR CHOI DANIEL LEFT INSIDE THE CAR.

Danny,

I'm sorry for not giving this to you in person, but all that talking made me forget that I should give you my phone number.

This is my number, by the way.

(XXX)-9XX-XXXX-XXX

That's my cellular number, but you can also reach me from this landline if in the chance I'm not responsive.

(XXX)-XXX-XX-XX

Believe it or not, that line is Dr. Takata's landline to Cainta which automatically fills his smartphone with voicemails. Technology never ceases to impress my old school butt.

Please, take care of yourself, okay?

Blessing,

Dr. Kim Junkyu

————

Jaden and I decided to hang around the beach some more. I'm really happy that I left some of our clothing in this house and that I invested for airtight containers, so it would prevent my clothes from smelling mildewed.

I sat on the shore, playing with sand, while Jaden sat on the shallow end of the sea, feeling the passing wave on his skin.

He stood up and went from where I was sitting. He had his left eye opened and squinted, nodding his head as he joined my silence.

"Do you usually hang out with Jun here?"

"Not as often as we wanted," I said. The weather was perfect, too. The sun didn't burn that much. In fact, the minimal sunlight that passed proved to be conducive for Jaden who enjoyed the chance to see from his left eye again with the help of his visor. Clouds crowded like shells on the blue sky, descending to the horizon and almost touching the sea. Then, I remembered Jun. How he loved the overcast weather, for it's cold and is great for reading. "We prefer to stay inside the room and cuddle in between books and deadlines."

"That sounds romantic," he said. "You know, I never really had the chance to enjoy the feeling of being in love. I'm kinda envious that you're in love for so long."

"Why? I'm also broken for so long," I said.

"Did you have any regrets in choosing Jun?"

I shook my head. "I've been in love with him all my life. I think if you'd stay for so long, any form of regret meant that such regret is existing already, and you're just too happy to notice. But, for Jun, love is light and pleasing. Love is a battle that we conquered together."

"Then, that's what I envied. I think pushing the boundaries for truth is brave, but being distinct and being true to someone is braver, because it takes gut to open yourself and be vulnerable to someone."

"You haven't done that?"

He shook his head. "My girlfriend left me when I became blind," he said. He laughed, scratching the back of his head. "I understand her, though. She has her life ahead of her, and just because mine stopped didn't that hers should stop as well to care for me."

"How did you cope with it?"

He shrugged. "I think I just did," he said. "I think it's easier to be alone when you're to lose nothing in that state of loneliness. I did experience loneliness when I'm physically able but I always thought that I just needed to build my way up to a sort of enlightenment within my profession. That, pretty soon, I would understand that my boring life is important for people who lived the fullest of theirs."

"Boring? I didn't know that you see life as boring. You've done plenty in your young life."

"If you must know, I did all that because I refused the call of pleasure; adventure. I thought I need to work hard to earn my keep in the meaningless world and to have fun is the opposite of it. So, I'm engrossed with work, and I'm angry when someone disrupts it. Remember when Junkyu talked about the manner I reprimanded him?"

"Oh, yeah!" I said. "That's pretty harsh. You called him incompetent."

"Much deserved, but I apologized already." He flicked water towards my direction, grinning. "What I meant to say, though, is that in my loneliness, I thought being lonesome will help me find my way out. I valued my job more than the people in my life that even when I sacrificed myself, I thought, in my survival that I've come undone and I'm meaningless."

"That's not true," I said.

"It is, though. There's no sweeter word to sugarcoat that I failed in doing what I wanted to do. So, I thought of having fun. I escaped my house in the thought of finding happiness away from where I'm trapped."

"Aren't you worried that they'll come looking for you? Aren't you worried that they might be dying of worry for you?"

"Maybe a little," he said. "But, I did escape already. To kill myself. We went to a resort, and I thought of drowning myself. I was found and saved. So, I thought, if I were to escape again, it would be to live."

I don't know what to tell, Jaden, but I had the biggest urge to tap his back and hug him. I followed through which he didn't protest in receiving.

Our similarities are really uncanny. We both lost something and someone important to us. We both lost our reason of being. We both tried death and failed in the said trial. We're both stuck in the hole of loneliness.

But, we're also brave. And, we're also trying to find life in a world we thought was empty.

"I admire you for that decision," I said. "You're more impressive than I expected."

He looked at me, grinning. "You're damn right I am!"

And, that's our difference. He's still better in modesty than I am.

He continued laughing, as I shook my head, not wanting to ruin his moment.


	8. WHAT HAPPENS TWICE CAN HAPPEN THRICE

"THE SHOT HIT ME. BLOOD POURED OUT OF MY EYES. I FELT A PROFOUND SENSE OF SADNESS THAT MY LIFE'S WORK IS OVER."

APRIL XX, 200X

— Dr. Jaden Kamenari (25), a volunteer medic, holds a morse code keyer to detail his experience during the attack they received from the Sri Lankan army after he accompanied some journalists for a rare interview with the Tamil Tigers. —

— Dr. Jaden Kamenari (center) puts his hands up moments before the blast hits him. —

It was the most difficult decision of my life. I was lying in an open field with a clump of tall grass that rose to cover me. The moon is expected to appear soon, and the sky is pitch black. I could hear the hard breathing of one of the journalists beside me. The coldness of his calloused fingers that pressed on my palm seemed to call for help. The gurgling noises around the bodies that fell upon the explosion paid no heed to the fear of being killed for we know we're dead when the Sri Lankan army found us.

Every so often, a flare would light up the darkness. Advancing soldiers would intermittently rustle the tall grass and raked the field with automatic weapons fire. They had to be as scared as we were. They had to be as cautious as the thoughts of death in my head.

After all, no one really wants to die in a jungle, and the more I kept on thinking of dying, the more I feared the steps approaching and the hands that picked me up and the shoulder I clung in order to stand and wobble my legs to move.

I feared for the lives on my hands, because they're not just people who have mistakenly stumbled in a country they thought to be hospitable. They're journalists—extending the word that peace talks are offered and that there's a bigger injustice at play when it comes to guerrilla activities. I thought I wouldn't mind lying for hours just so I'm sure that when they're spotted, they would get the appropriate medical help.

I'm left with three options, then.

I could crawl away. I could try carrying one or two of my colleagues and put them away from the lurking danger. But if one soldier had night-vision goggles—even the poorest army has one—I would be the only moving object in the field and would be shot.

I could stay still and huddle with the group of rebels, journalists, and medics a-like. We would still be alone in the jungle, and if we're spotted, they would shoot first.

I could stand up and show myself as a medic in distress. It also meant that I need to identify that I'm with journalists and that meant we would be shot.

There's no fourth option.

There's only death within the vast jungle of Sri Lanka for us.

It was 10 P.M. on the forward defence line of the Sri Lankan army at Parayanlankulam. I thought of how I came to be here. I thought, something must have went so wrong along the way that it brought me down to my knees.

I'm not the best subscriber of religiosity, but, at that moment, I thought, God, Buddha, Yahweh, and two-thousand more Hindu deities, please, save us.

A week before that event, I volunteered to accompany the journalists in secretly entering Vanni. This place has become the refuge of the Tamil Tigers since the government captured the Jaffna Peninsula in 1995. At nineteen, I kept track of all the activities that happened in the world and saw the impact it had in the lives of people. I thought, I could help out. I thought, I would be like reporter Choi who did not abandon the world for his life.

The Sri Lankan government is at odds with the Tamil Tigers for many years already that the government bans the entry of journalists there. I know I should hold no fear, for I'm not a journalist. But the fear doubled because of my duty and responsibility to keep them safe.

The ban meant that the journalists could not talk to the leadership of Liberation Tigers for Tamil Eelam. Even though the government was involved in negotiations through a Norwegian envoy to begin peace talks, the only news of the problem came from the government.

More importantly, the ban prevented the journalists from reporting the plights of 500,000 Tamil civilians, 340,000 of them are refugees, bottled, trapped in the Vanni suffering under an economic embargo the government denied existed.

Prior my joining of the journalists, I travelled around Vanni as a medical specialist, with several of my classmates from when I'm in med school. We saw firsthand the humanitarian crises the Sri Lankan government kept on sweeping under the rug. The starving people. International aid from different agencies denied. No electricity. No phone services. Few medicines. No fuel for cars, water pumps, or lighting.

Nothing.

I've spent countless hours in a makeshift clinic, tending to the refugees who the world seemed to forget. I've seen firsthand the trials of getting the necessary medicines to cure a simple cold for they're starting to spread the bug that affects the immuno-compromised the most.

So when I heard that there's an activity where some journalists would enter the den of the Tigers, I thought the word would soon come out and everyone would know their struggle and they would send the necessary help.

I feel like I failed. The shot hit me. Blood poured out of my eyes. I felt a profound sense of sadness that my life's work is over.

I fell to the ground, shaking like a leaf for shots continued to flare in the air. Some halfhearted soldiers stopped from shooting and waited for me to be on my knees with both of my hands raised. "Please, don't shoot! Please, don't shoot!"

There were more shots, but nothing planted upon my torso. It's more like they're shooting the plain and shouting at me. "English?! Anyone speak English!" I screamed. The hysterical shouting continued. They must be as scared as me for they didn't relent in poking me with their gun. "I'm a doctor," I shouted. "A doctor!" One brawny arm picked me up and stood me. My legs had given up then, and I wobbled like newborn foal to be sent to the slaughterhouse. This was bad, but I wasn't scared of what's to come. When I'm led to hold onto the shoulder of another soldier, I thought, I'm pretty much dead, and I'm going to experience being shot in the head as a way to soften the thought of a painful death.

When my hand slipped, they pummeled me with their brawny arms because one of the soldiers helping me thought I'm reaching for his grenade. They pushed me to the path. "Take off your jacket," they said. I couldn't see anything at all, so I fumbled to take off whatever's left of my clothing. They also ordered me to walk on my own. Whenever I'm feeling faint that I'm tripping on my feet, they always ended up shouting, thinking that I'm playing a trick on them.

I learned that they're cautious, for they've experienced countless and often ruthless attacks from the Tamil Tigers, specifically, the Black Tigers, an elite unit for suicide missions. They targetted buildings and crowds and even assassinated a president and killed Rajiv Gandhi, the Indian leader.

When I reached the grove, I was pushed on my back and kicked by shouting soldiers. They pointed a flashlight from my eyes, but I couldn't see any of my assailants. I felt fainter and fainter, having a difficulty in breathing which I learned to be from a bruising in my lungs, and it's causing for a build up of fluid.

"I'm with journalists," I said, "they need a doctor!" I pleaded and shouted, but no one dared to answer. Instead, they kicked me again before they brought me up. An authority figure must have entered for the shouting turned to frantic fixing and fretting to put things in order.

A bright light was shone in my face again. He came on the scene and asked questions that seemed to change to interrogation. "Who are you? Where are you from? Where did you get your training? How many people are with you? Where's your vehicle? Ah, you said you're Filipino, but where's your vehicle?"

Things were calming down that anger is starting to take over me. The questions are ridiculous, and I think they're just trying to pin the attacks on me. Why would I be lying in the field at night if I had a vehicle?

"Admit that you tried to kill us," he said. "Or, at least, admit that you fired grenades to us first, this is true, is it not?"

"No, sir, there was no fire until your soldiers shot us," I said.

Thus, begin the restless series of journeys. I'm scared, hyperventilating, and having difficulty in breathing because of the bruising in my lungs. I passed out and was woken up with a prod from the muzzle of their gun.

We've arrived to Vavuniya.

The soldiers carried me to the hospital where I met the voices of the colleagues I left for something I thought to be the better fight. Dr. Kim Junkyu, the attending surgical intern of our head surgeon, tended to my wounds. He took out the shrapnel stuck on my head, shoulder, and chest. He noticed that I couldn't see from my right eye, while my left eye is still reacting to very little light. He must have panicked the soldiers to insanity that they brought me to a bigger hospital in Anuradhapura where an X-ray showed that there was a shrapnel lodged in my eye.

I'm sent to the embassy to fly out of Sri Lanka and back to the Philippines to make a full recovery.

The void of sadness grew bigger, for I know I could still help. I know that I could still lend my service to them.

The shrapnel had been removed, but both of my eyes are beyond saving already. I could still see from my left eye after the incident, but I will never forget what I saw with both of my eyes.

— Dr. Jaden Kamenari (on bed) and an army surgeon on the right, checking his eyes. He's informed that he's going to lose his right eye anyway and is being asked to proceed to the operation. —

—————

Having no fear, Jaden joined the forming crowd and tried squinting his eyes so hard to see the cause of the commotion.

The sun is slowly making a plunge to the sea. I couldn't stop myself from staring straight to the falling ball as the orange hue stained the sea like spilled orange juice on a white fabric. I also couldn't stop myself from looking at Jaden, who sat at the prow of the boat and watched the much-awaited descent. The sunset he so yearned.

I put the camera up and took some pictures of the sun. I pointed the camera to Jaden, too, but he's a bit occupied that even when I clicked and the audible shutter reverberated in our small shared space, he didn't budge. He remained looking in, contented with the view of the sun.

I took another picture of the setting sun, not forgetting to put Jaden in the frame. "You like it?" I asked.

He looked at me, nodding. "This is a first," he said. "I mean, watching the sunset on a boat, at the sea, and feeling the warmth of the sun on my face. I always thought that I already saw the best the world could offer, but this, this is the best."

"I'm glad you liked it," I said, scratching the back of my head. "I have to ask the Conchadas to lend us their boat." He looked at me, tilting his head. I returned the quizzical gaze in the hopes that he would say something.

"Did you pay him?" He asked.

"I did," I said, laughing. "I don't want to impose so much that I paid for the amount he spent to re-fuel the boat. Fun fact, it's quite expensive."

"You wouldn't be poor," he replied, snickering. "You've had like plenty of projects already that you're richer than an average Filipino."

"Oh, shut it, Jaden," I answered. "Life is never easy for all of us."

"Unless you're Choi Danny with his sixty-thousand per cut off salary." He even stuck his tongue out when he panned his head to me.

"To hell with you, Jaden," I said, laughing, "I wish I did earn that much on every cutoff. I'm sure that I could buy a better beach house than the lackey I have from the shore."

"But I'm happy you have this place," he said. He shifted a little from where he's sitting, giving me enough space to join him. I went a little closer to him, making the boat rock a little, but it was stable nevertheless. "This is like your sweeter place, and even in the terror of your job, you know that you have a place to sugarcoat the taste of your experiences."

I like that thought. A sweeter place. But I'm not the type to sugarcoat some general truths in our life, and the truth is that there are parents in the world who are sleeping without seeing the future of peace for their children. It's just difficult to make the bitterness of life as a sweet tribulation which will pave your road to heaven. We can't always think of death and the permanence of its sweet embrace.

We need to care for life, and, regardless of its wrongness or bitterness, we need to pave a path for something better and really sweeter for the future.

I looked at Jaden and shook my head. "The place is not as sweet as you might think," I told him. "And, no, it's not because Jun's not around anymore to make this place perfect for me. We bought the house in the hopes that we could focus in our respective professions and, you know, be on guard of each others mental and physical health." I nodded my head and imagined Jun, how he paced around the house naked, carrying his laptop, phone, or journal and analyzing an interview, speech, or scoop he got from a verified source. "We considered our careers as an offering for truth to power. I think the more you understand a perspective, the easier it is to synthesize an experience that is not far from the truth. That is power. That's power."

"I have that yearning for the world, too," he said. "But the world is far bigger than our small attempts." He looked at me, smiling. "The importance with small actions is that one should never stop doing it in the hopes of change."

"You ready to return?" I asked. I stood up and went to the boats propeller.

"Say, when you lost Jun, what is the first thing that comes to your mind?"

I looked at Jaden, trying to see a hint of mischief from it. Yet he didn't smile at me. Instead, he looked particularly lost. Lonely, even.

"What this about?" I asked. "Are you okay?" The propeller made a loud whirring sound as water started to sputter from the sea to me.

"I am," he said, waving the worry in my face. "I just... have you heard the saying that what happens once can happen twice? I don't know, there's just something so... different about the first time you felt loss for one person."

I cocked my head towards him. The boat started to amble, making a swift incision on the calm water. "I thought that he's going home," I said. "I mean, he didn't read or reply to any of messages on the entire day, so when they informed me that there's a possibility that he's dead, I thought, that can't be true. He's invincible. But then I arrived in Maguindanao, thinking that it's all just an overblown situation. Significantly scared but trying to make lemonades out of the lemons. Then, bodies after bodies started to pile, and I'm just numbed. I started hoping that Jun's body would emerge soon for I know he's already gone."

"Then, when it did?"

"I'm shattered," I said. "I thought I said that he's coming home as a way to soften the blow, but I just couldn't take the thought of my man dying. I insisted he's alive, just so I don't have to endure the ugly sides of grief." I looked straight into the water and imagined of the things I missed with Jun and the projects I refused for Jun. I don't want to forget him. I don't want to lose him the second time. "But I forgot that grief is never beautiful and no one emerges from loneliness unscathed."

"Would you be able to handle it the second time?"

I looked at him, smiling. "No." I shook my head. "But life goes on, you know. I'm sure that what happened twice could happen thrice, and the pain of loss would never lighten; would never be discounted. Because loving someone is not an option between letting go or being vulnerable, you just have to be vulnerable."

"Not bad, lover," he said.

"Not bad, right?" I replied. "Nothing of what we're personally facing is bad."

We hit the shore soon enough. We made sure to pull the boat from the prow back to the sands, so that the tide wouldn't bring it back to the sea.

I tied a knot to the metallic brace where different boats were railed. Meanwhile, Jaden threw his gaze to the forming crowd near the shore.

"Look, Danny," he called. "I think there's a lot of people over there."

I looked at the portion he pointed and saw that there's a few more than ten people encircling someone until a piercing wail broke through the afternoon dreariness.

"Help!"

Jaden made a bolt to the source of the scream, taking along his cane. His reaction made me break to it and went to the commotion.

"What happened?" I asked.

One of the by-standers pointed to the young man on the sand. His leg is in a strange angle that made me think of a compound fracture for I could also see blood. Other than that, there're also prickly black spines on his foot that seemed to cause local swellings.

"Jaden, Jaden!" I called. "He has a compound fracture," I said.

"Please, help us!" The woman cried. The young man is trying to tolerate the pain, but every so often, he would wince and groan as the shooting pain hit him.

Jaden pushed the crowd to the side. He ordered me to phone the hospital with just putting his finger near his ears. I ran to my phone and check if the goddamn stuff would have access on the beach, but there's none.

"There's no reception here," I shouted. I went to Jaden who scratched his head. He had his left eye squinted hard, examining the leg.

"Is there someone who has an Epsom salt here?!" He inquired, loudly. "One of you, go home and call the hospital. He might lose a lot of blood."

"What happened?" Jaden asked.

The woman tried to contain her sobbing. "We're island hopping when he dove on a rocky part of the sea. He didn't know there were urchins, so he tried avoiding them from his fall. But he landed with his leg and there was a sick crunch. Our boater is calling for help already."

"What do you think, Jaden?" I asked.

"He needs medical attention, stat." He stood up and asked the people to give him space. "Come here, Danny!" I followed. "You see that the fracture is near the ankle, right? I want you to apply pressure at the back of leg to stop the blood. Yes, just like that." He looked at the woman who has a clear cloth on her head. "Is that clean?" He asked.

"I think so," she said.

"That's good enough. Give it to me," he said. The woman immediately complied and handed it to Jaden, which Jaden threw to me. "Use the cloth as a makeshift bondage."

The young man yelped when I followed Jaden's directive. I used the cloth to tie a knot above the fracture which stopped the bleeding minimally. "Elevate his legs, please," he ordered. One of the people in the crowd returned with an Epsom Salt and a bucket of warm water.

"You beautiful bastard," he told the man who immediately went to his side. "I need your help here again, Danny. We'd treat the urchin stings for him until the help arrived." He looked confident as the man pointed the tweezers in the warm water. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Travis," he said.

"Really, you're a Travis? You looked like a Joey to me. Don't sleep. What do you like here in Infanta?"

"The—the sea," the kid said.

He threw the tweezers to me, making me yelp. "Why me?" I asked. I looked at the guy who brought everything needed to treat the sting, seemingly needing to puke.

"Because you've seen blood all the time. Now, stop yapping and start tweezing." He ordered.

I gulped in worry. I know I'm not the type to chortle in fear, but I'm feeling so unexpectedly jumpy. Where the hell are the ambulance.

"He's a correspondent, you know. He's been to Iraq, Libya, and Afghanistan. He's like a big deal, but, look at him, shaking in fear. Tell him to toughen up!"

"T-toughen up," he said.

"You heard the kid, Danny, toughen up!"

"I am doing my best, and this is the first for me, Doc."

"Get used to it," he said. I started plucking out the stings that made a visible hole from his foot. Much to my disgust, but I kept doing it anyway. I bathed his feet with the warm water with Epsom salt. The young man winced but kept on answering the mundane questions of Jaden.

"The ambulance is here," a brawny man said. I heaved a sigh of relief that I almost dropped his foot.

"Oh, thank the lords," I said.

"Wow, Danny, you sure are sensitive," I said.

I snickered a little. "Sorry, Travis." I went away and left him to his mother as the EMT went to him and produced the stretcher.

"How did you do that?" I asked Jaden. "You just took control of the situation... like... boom, boom, click, and you have the general urgency and calm at the same time."

He smiled at me, scratching the back of his head. "I realized that I'm such a huge menace as a by-stander and that I need to do something."

"That's brave," I said.

"It is," he answered. "But, I wouldn't do any of it without your telling about the pain of loss and the grief that follows would never lighten. When I saw the crowd, I'm like, ugh, these people are the worst, but I'm just like them." He shook his head, smiling. "My heart started racing, but not the, oh, I'm gonna die, racing! It's more like, move aside, buttweiners, I'll do my best to save this kid."

The kid was loaded up in the ambulance. His mother looked at us, mouthing her gratitude towards us. "So, what do you think? Polillo Island?"

He looked at me, sighing. "Ask me tomorrow, forknuts!" he said.

He grabbed a hold of my arm and followed the path I'm walking, not stopping himself from laughing as I'm shaking my head.

————

From: David Watanabe  
To: Daniel Choi

Daniel,

Ararat

The rain stopped: dreams  
like living beings swarmed  
the hazy and drowned minds  
of those that passed

The boat rests atop the roof  
of the world watching the  
inundated land with such  
anticipation to step on the grass

The dreams dreamed of peace  
without picturing the terror  
of the punishment received  
The gods remained laughing

For they know the pain is  
never-ending for the living  
None is ever lucky, but the dead  
For pain finds those who dream

Good evening, Danny! How are you doing? Above is poem number 2, by the way, which I've been thinking the whole day. You know, seeing death is not exactly the best feeling in the world. I think I need to have a cry break from time to time, for I'm never used to seeing death so close.

It made me wander if you felt that way during your stay in the most turbulent spaces in the world and assumed that we're all helpless.

Did you feel contentment that you're still around and still witnessing the troubles of the world unlike the dead? Did you think that life is exclusive and it follows the reason of just because, like, just because you have it doesn't mean you get to keep it with no worries?

I'm sorry for dampening the mood. I'm taking care of a little girl who has leukemia, and she just passed away. I'm still devastated, but I assumed she has no worries already.

Anyway, anything interesting happening the entire Thursday for you?

Please, tell me. I really need someone to talk to.

Later, then.

David


	9. FEAR is OFTEN GREATER than the DANGER

From: Daniel Choi  
To: David Watanabe

David,

————

VACCINE SCARE IN THE PHILIPPINES CAUSES THE STATE OF EMERGENCY — DR. KIM JUNKYU.

— Dr. Kim Junkyu (center) addresses in the last interview that the vaccine scare causes the worst chickenpox outbreak in Polillo Islands. —

Polillo islands is put in a state of emergency after the chickenpox outbreak infects 800 and more residents of the island.

The outbreak is dubbed as the worst chickenpox outbreak in the recorded peacetime history.

Chickenpox is caused by the Varicella Zoster Virus, and it can be transmitted thru touching of blisters, saliva, or mucus of an infected person. It can also be transmitted through air by sneezing and coughing.

Dr. Kim Junkyu addressed in his last interview that the outbreak is preventable, if and only if the people are vaccinated. "I'm not the type to pin blames, but the vaccine scare causes the state of emergency, said the doctor. "We know that chickenpox is highly-contagious, but we haven't seen this magnitude of infection since the vaccination has been in effect."

It has been established that the strain of chickenpox present in Polillo Islands by-passes the immunity of those who had chickenpox in their childhood. "We shouldn't hesitate to get our children and ourselves vaccinated. It's the least we could do to prevent an outbreak of this scale."

Dr. Kim Junkyu still encouraged volunteers to come forward, for manpower is needed in the islands.

————

Hello, David!

I read the poem, by the way. I like it, and while I feel sorry for what you've experienced, I'm glad that your grief is not put to waste.

You know, I hope I have your ability as an artist. The way you write your poem is just conversational, and the picture you paint is something that I'm familiar with. After all, the face of death is rarely different. It's just that we thought of fear that's bigger than the danger presented as the only thing necessary to watch for. We're all dying in a way, anyway. So what should stop us from living out of fear and into the space where we could help out and lessen the fear and sadness of our mortality?

Let's put some more good out there, David. I'm hoping to write in your caliber again pretty soon.

I also like reference used: Noah's Ark. I mean, we know that Old Testament God is fucked up to the maximum, but I think some disasters await acknowledgement, for we know that nature is the boss. Oh, and also, keep doing your best, David! I understand that facing death from time to time is inevitable, but you need to keep your head clear without ruining your empathy towards the grief of others. Be a shoulder to lean on is what I wanted to say.

Anyway, I'm sorry for putting you on read last night. I think I passed out from all that alcohol in my system because the doctor mentioned in the article brought vodka. And, it's been so long since I've had alcohol that I just got hammered after a few gulps.

How are you?

Danny

PS. Volunteers are still encouraged. When you find some time or a chance opened at the hospital you're working at, please, volunteer. I have a lot to tell you, too.

————

From: David Watanabe  
To: Daniel Choi

Danny,

Good morning! I'd say, start your day with a glass of orange juice. I usually use that when it comes to my stupid hangovers. I'm a lightweight, too, so don't think I'm passing judgment.

I hope that you're doing well, anyway. I jumped in my scrubs just now, and I'm preparing myself mentally for another twelve hour and more shift. It's crazy here in the ICU, really, of course, I wouldn't dare to be too graphic, but, you know when you've described Tehran as a scene of death and explosion—a constant that lingered in the air that everyone inside the strip could taste it. It's like that, minus the explosion, of course. Death lingers in the air that it made me more hopeful for the recovery of the patient.

I wanted to think that from the face of death arises hope and that hope is a weapon to combat the grief of seeing a loved one suffering, or worse, passing. I just hope that the extent of my efforts wouldn't make me lose faith of the world's ability to make miracles.

In terms of volunteering, I'm checking my calendar from time to time and trying to find a space where I could lend a hand to the people who needed further help. Also, I'm really amazed that Dr. Kim is not afraid to address the shortcomings of the health sector. I mean, the article you sent is terribly washed of all the namedroppings he did. He called out the Department of Health and the inaction of the government regarding public health emergencies. He even called Secretary Duque as someone hiding under the sheets he soiled because of the PR nightmare caused by Dengvaxia without addressing the root cause of the controversy. He even called Persida Acosta as Hades's lapdog and the harbinger of pejoration from what should be addressed sensitively and with due diligence to educate the masses.

He snapped, which is pretty tight for someone who is loved and hated all at the same time.

Anyway, I'm hearing the call of duty, and I must respond quickly. Catch you later, Danny.

David

PS. I might need to ask for Dr. Kim Junkyu's autograph. I'm already stanning hard.

————  
MAHMOUD AHMADINEJAD'S ELECTION MET WITH FURY

JUNE 1X, 200X

— The motorcycle police came from behind. They threw stun grenades that exploded as I was walking with thousands of demonstrators on Tehran's central boulevard, talking to a hospital clerk who swore to never vote for Iran again. —

Tempers ran high. Protesters jostling shoulder to shoulder filled the road and pavements, punching the air with chants of 'Down with the dictator!' and 'Be ashamed and give us back Iran!'

The protesters are convinced that their candidate Hossein Mousavi, a former prime minister, has been cheated of victory by the government of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

The election had been hard fought, with both Mousavi and Ahmadinejad being the frontrunners of the election of the century and an evidently tight race is predicted to go to a second round this Friday.

The campaign was emotionally-charged with supporters of Mousavi taking on the road and filling it with marching, chanting, singing, and dancing that lasted from dusk to dawn. Many of Mousavi's supporters are young men and women, and they almost shut down the city last week with an all-night street campaigning as they handed out campaign leaflets.

Such spectacle had never been seen in the conservative city where women are legally obliged to wear a hijab and an overcoat, and sexes are not allowed to mix unless they're married or relatives.

Rallies for both candidates poured in and drew tens of thousands of fervent supporters.

Just as they had all week, the demonstrators wore green shirts and waved green flags, banners and ribbons signalling their support for Mousavi.

"I'll never again vote in Iran," said Nassir Amri, a Tehran hospital clerk. "This is not the first time they stole from us. This isn't the first, and this wouldn't be the last time they would steal the election to us." He was just telling me about his master's degree when his voice was drowned out by the roar of motorcycles behind us and along the sides of the road.

They were in their battle armours, with camouflage uniforms, black flak jackets, black helmets and menacing visors down. They were riot police.

They fired several grenades to the crowd. Women screamed and fell to the ground; men jumped onto the pavements and returned to grab the fallen out of the way. Shop owners pulled the scared by-standers inside and slammed down the metal grates.

It took seconds to realize that they threw stun grenades, but they were terrifying seconds.

The smell of death lingered in the air as young men started shouting and running forward after the riot police. The riot police didn't relent. Instead, they proceeded to pummel the fighting men with a metallic baton, seemingly enjoying the showmanship of brutality and telling that the same would be given to those who would think of fighting back. Explosion echoed on. Screams continued to fill the streets that an outrage had erupted. The riot police were more than prepared. They were a special unit trained to put down the protest and was named after Hasran Nasrallah, the Lebanese Hezbollah leader.

Confronting them is a brave but foolish gesture. But the clamor to fight injustice remained louder than their fear.

About 30 yards ahead of us, at the junction of Vali-asr St. and a square called Saei Park, a skirmish with motorcycles roaring and young men screaming 'Allahu Akbar.'

Smoke rose from the scene as the crowd cleared. Two riot police motorcycles lay burning in the middle of the junction as protesters cheered. Flames are leaping from the metal carcasses and smoke is rising to the overcast sky. The protesters cheered loudly.

The protesters are not seasoned fighters. Tehran locals told me that they have never seen such a crowd—young men and women, intellectuals and workers.

The riot police stood their ground and came roaring with engines and stun grenades in hand, but the marchers stubbornly regrouped and the stand-off continued.

Walking back to my hotel, I saw burning dustbins and dozens of protesters tossing and throwing bricks at the policemen that swung their metallic baton to the by-standers. A colleague said he had counted four more burned-out police motorcycles and seen dozens of riot police beating up the by-standers.

Clashes continued into the night, and there were reports of one person being killed.

No one knew what to expect next. I kept on snapping pictures, following the intense stand-off between the protesters and the policemen. I asked one of the march's leaders if they would turn the demonstration into a full-pledged revolution.

"I don't know," he said. "This is new to us."

The first protest had begun at 4:00 AM, as Mousavi supporters who had stayed up all night to wait for the results converged on the ministry of the interior, the department in charge of the poll in the center of the city. They were beaten back by the police who seemed to be expecting them.

Later that morning, I visited Mousavi's center of campaign. A five-storey building on a residential street. The riot police had already been there.

An older woman approached me, expressing her disappointment. "We hate this government," she said. "It's my generation's fault to have let them come in 1979(when the shah was ousted). These children are doing what we're not brave enough to do."

The disappointment in Mousavi's defeat quickly turned to anger as people absorbed the scale of Ahmadinejad's victory.

The protesters kept on seeing red with the brutality they met from the riot police. The riot police stormed in and threw canisters filled with tear gas and beat them up with batons.

Polls in Iran are unreliable, but every unofficial sampling had indicated a close race. The outpouring of support for Mousavi in Tehran could have been deceptive as Ahmadinejad’s supporters are mostly the rural poor and urban working class, but the gap between the two candidates caused Iranian analysts and voters alike to suspect that something was amiss.

Mousavi spoke to his advisers and was advised to concede, but said he would challenge the results. "I will not surrender to this dangerous charade."

News of the clashes spread through word of mouth; state run television was still showing films of queues of voters on Friday. The texting network that Mousavi's supporters had used to organize their campaign was blocked.

Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Iran’s supreme leader, said the election result should stand. ‘Other honourable candidates must refrain from any kind of provocative and distrustful words or deeds,’ he said on state radio.

Yet it was clear that many people felt they're cheated.

— Nassir Amri (right) punching the air, shouting 'Down with the Dictator.' moments before the attack. —

— The riot police beat two by-standers for burning a dustbin. —

— Local shop owners pulling protesters inside and slamming the metallic grate down. —

— A young man bravely standing in the way of the roaring motorcycles of the riot police. —

————

"Oh, wow!" Junkyu said, sitting down on the sofa. "You sure have a lot of books here."

I don't really know how to respond. Instead, I smiled and pretended to feel shy from the attention I'm receiving from Junkyu. "Yeah," I said, "but, as much as I wanted to say that I'm responsible for the books, it's Jun who had thought to collect them all."

He looked at me and grinned. "You're an intellectual of your own league, too," he said. He broke into his usual robust peal of laughter as he approached a shelf and took a binder. "May I?" He presented the clear binder to me, and I just nodded.

"Those are the articles I've written for Philippine Daily," I said. "I discouraged Jun from time to time that collecting my articles is not part of the labors of love that I demand." I couldn't stop myself from smiling as I remembered Jun hunched over his desk and was clipping my writings from the newspaper he bought. "But he told me that it's a good way to immortalize me, so that when I die in action, he has my writings to remember me."

Junkyu closed the binder and approached me. I'm preparing curry for dinner, so I'm pretty engrossed in dicing onions and ginger that I'm going to use for the sauce. From time to time, I looked at my company who looked at me, softly. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Junkyu," I said, grinning. "I'm about to burst into tears because of the damned onion."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" He replied. He also dove to hug me, tearing up a little while rubbing his cheek to mine. "I'm just weak for everything that's romantic, and Jun's labor of love to immortalize you didn't go to waste, because he immortalized his efforts." He wiped his tear-stained cheeks, laughing a little. "I wish I had that kind of romance, you know. But a social life is hard to come by, even for people of my visual range."

I shook my head, laughing. "That's a little conceited," I said. It's the truth, though. Dr. Kim Junkyu is just very good-looking for a lack of better word. He's nearing forty, but he still managed to smile without having an arc of lines on his cheeks and forehead.

Instead of answering, he shrugged. He returned to the binder and opened it. "This is a lot, huh?"

"It is," I answered. "Jun has been collecting my works since 2000," I said, "I think he enjoyed that I'm masking my anger in expressions that seemed to bring an informative neutral."

"I could tell," Junkyu said. He took one of the clipping from the 2003 collections. "You've even covered Saddam Hussein's trial and execution."

"Oh, that? I have nothing but love for that moment. At least we know that monsters can still find themselves at the mercy of people. If you must know, the executioners who would be hanging Saddam went to him wearing the usual dark ages balaclava."

He howled in laughter. "Really? Darn! That's epic," he said. "I'm glad that he died. He killed a lot of his people and wreaked havoc that made life different for a common Iraqi."

"Right?!" I went to the stove and started preheating the pan before putting the teaspoon of oil I prepared. "Of course, a conversation is opened regarding death penalty. There are those who cheered and celebrated the death of Saddam, but there are those who criticized it, too."

"But what do you think? Should he die?"

I shrugged. "I'm happy he did, but I'm under the impression that he left the Earth with a little less concern and more than a country full of death. Iraq is still plagued with civil wars, so I'm not really sure what to expect of it. He should have felt scared for his mortality, too." I started sauteing the mix of ginger, onions, and diced garlic cloves. "Anyway, what brought you here? I didn't expect that you'd arrive, so I only have curry here."

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head. "Curry is perfect for me." He went back to the sofa and took a bottle of vodka out of his bag. "Tomorrow is my departure to Polillo Islands, and I might be out of order the entire month because of the state of emergency employed, so I really don't want to miss you and Jaden a lot," he said.

"That's sweet," I said, facing him. "But you don't really need to bring anything. I'm cool with just you hanging out."

"Where's the fun in that?" He exclaimed. He put the bottle of vodka on the table, and just looking at it is enough to make me drunk. "Let's end Thursday with liquor in our system," he said.

"For a doctor, you sure like breaking the stereotype of doctors being too healthy."

"Well, I'm full of surprises myself," he said. "So don't be too uptight."

"Fine, why—"

"Yeah!" Jaden exclaimed. "Why don't you dig a hole and bury yourself there, you dingus!?"

I trailed. "—not... I'm not do—you finished bathing already?" I told Jaden who was drying his hair already.

"Oh, Jaden!" Junkyu replied, smiling. "I brought vodka. Are you down to drink tonight?"

"Tight!" He answered Junkyu. "What did you bring?"

"Absolut," the doctor replied. "For no added sugar fun." Oh, boy! I think I should prepare vomit buckets for us.

"That's the thing," Jaden said, shaking his thumb and pinky to Junkyu. "Hate to say this to you, Danny, but Junkyu's coming in strong with free liquor."

I'm not going to be sucked into their plan to drink, so I focused on preparing dinner. "I'm not going to drink vodka, okay? You know I'm taking prozac and I hate for it to lead into something bad."

I've kept my conviction, but the thing about it is that even when they stopped pressuring me to drink, I felt like I'm being left out and I'm missing out.

"Danny's right," Jaden said. I smiled at him as they both stuffed their faces with curry rice. "He needs some milk, you know? We don't want to upset his neurotransmitters."

Junkyu laughed. "I think I could run to the store and buy him some powdered milk. That's hardcore as hardcore milk could get. Not fresh."

"Or, maybe you could get him some yogurt drink or an orange juice. That suits a dork like him."

"Oh, dip! Maybe I should."

Jaden snickered, slightly pushing Junkyu. "You should, you should." I wish I could say that my conviction didn't budge, but they're so annoying that I know I wouldn't hear the end of it if I continued declining.

Plus, I could always stop when I think I've had enough. I just need to think about moderation and moderate my intake.

That's what I thought.

When we finished dinner, Junkyu popped the bottle and asked for me to bring out a shot glass. I also took out the orange juice to chase it, so that we wouldn't end up dying of alcohol poisoning.

They started in silence while I fixed the table.

"How's the medical mission so far?" I asked Junkyu.

He poked his head out of the table space and just raised his thumb. "It's sailing smoothly, more or less. We're trying to curve the spread, and, so far, the results are workable."

"Really? Will you be sailing with the medicine tomorrow?"

"More or less, Danny," he said. "Though, I still need some more volunteers. The number of infected is rising, so we really need more heads to help out."

"Is that right? Can I volunteer?" I asked.

He took a gulp of the vodka he poured and poured one again for Jaden who was trying to keep himself out of the picture and silently clicking away from his pocket. "You? Yes! I think having you to cover it would make me more comfortable to answer questions."

"Really?" I couldn't stop myself from smiling

He nodded. "Seriously," he said. "There are those who hate me who wanted to enter Polillo, but I'm not for that drama. From what you've written your entire career, I surmise that you can also be impartial about issues that you're passionate about."

"Oh, great! I'll just take Jaden home, and then I'll meet you again at the port."

"Wait, wait!" Jaden said, standing. "Am I excluded?"

"I don't know," I said. "I mean, are you even interested in doing it? You've been giving me the same old answer that I should ask you tomorrow. I'm thinking of packing and preparing for the voyage already."

"I am," he said. "I just... I feel like I'll be in the way."

Jaden sat once again. "It's insane that I'm triggered by this conversation, but being a doctor requires technical skills and one of those technical skills is seeing. You know how difficult it would be for me to help out."

"Well, you can be the speaker about the importance of vaccines," Junkyu said. "I'm also giving a seminar to the parents about the importance of vaccination, and how the pros outweigh the cons by a ton in vaccination."

"Really? There were anti-vaxxers in the Philippines? Aren't we too poor and in deep shit with Neglected Tropical Diseases to have the luxury of negating already useful vaccines?"

"Ask Persida Acosta," Junkyu replied, rolling his eyes. "She's the whole reason for the vaccine scare and why I'm giving a seminar for that."

"Oh, I hate that dingus so bad," he said. "I mean, children dying due to Dengue is never cool, but the deaths are not related to the vaccine." He sighed. "Okay," he said. "I'll join, are you happy, Danny?"

I nodded, smiling. "Very. At least we have that set on stone now."

The night turned deeper. Soon enough, I'm already joining them. I think Jaden's happy that he gets to drink again, because he's hanging his arm to Junkyu's shoulders.

"Can I tell you something that is such a buzzkill?"

I looked at Junkyu, smiling. "What is it?" I'm nearing my six shot glass already, and I even told myself that I'd only drink not more than three shots. What now, Danny? Where's the conviction?

"Oh, please, don't tell me you're dying," Jaden said. "You know that I love you and respect you, right?"

"I'm not," he said, laughing. "The orthopedic told me that I wouldn't be able to walk long distances now, and running meant that I'm making it worse. That also meant that I failed my medical clearance to return as a war doctor."

"Really?" Jaden asked, still hugging Junkyu. "No worries, you're still making a difference in your own way. The worst is giving up when you have something to offer the world."

"Jaden's right," I said. "The worst possible thing that could happen to us is to die a menace when we could still put some good out there."

"I felt that," Jaden said. "Just earlier this afternoon, I assisted in an emergency. I thought I'm useless, but when I'm there, the knowledge just filled my head that I knew what to do. I could just ignore the event, really, and say that I'm blind and I'm not effective, but we can always try, right? Some portions of what we used to do may be over, but not all should be over, too, right?"

"It's just hard to come to terms with it, you know. I have nothing other than my profession. I don't have a family, a lover, or an asset other than my profession. If I lose this, too, who am I? I fear being that old man who hates kids for being youthful. I fear being useless."

"Then, maybe you should stop looking at yourself as someone to be used," Jaden said. "It took me a lot of tines... timeses... timeseses..." He stopped. He looked at the shot glass and grinned. "These things rule."

"Okay," I said. I took the glass from him and put it down the table. "Jaden is drunk, so no more vodka for him."

"Oh, shut up, Danny, If I am drunk, then why do I feel fine?"

"Really?"

"Uh... really," he said. I didn't relent, though. "Anyway, Junkyu, what you should do is to continue fighting for the good fight. All we can do is try, right? I mean, we're free of our baggage already, because we lost what we feared losing. We should be braver, right?"

Instead of answering, Junkyu grimaced as if stopping himself to cry. "I just feel like I'm a fraud, you know. I'm doing things to stir my name in the conversation. All I really want is to be validated."

"But, you're addressing really pressing events, you know. I know that a corrupt motivation could affect your motion and notion, but it's never too late to change. There are real monsters in the Philippines, you know, and they fear you because you're not lenient in calling them out. You've made the health sector admit that they've demonized dengvaxia and sensationalized the deaths. You're now making them review your proposal for an automated health tracker nationwide. You're making some changes, and you're scaring the hell out of those monsters," I said. "Now that you see yourself useless, what else are you going to lose in that fight? Nothing, Junkyu. Just the drama and the corrupt motivation. Let's help the people help the people because we need to and because we're not menaces."

"I'm not afraid of them," he said. "An aswang can appear for all I care and I would just be, oh, man, where's the energy when thousands of people are dying of extrajudicial killings? When we're paying for stupid positions to do stupid biddings. You're all right, we need to fight the real monsters."

"I call for mage," Jaden said.

"What?" I answered. "What do you think we are talking about!"

Junkyu stopped talking, but when Jaden's words settled, he couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"You're drunk, Jaden," he said. "Go to sleep."

—————

From: Daniel Choi  
To: David Watanabe

David,

————

PARK JUN'S OBITUARY AS WRITTEN AND PUBLISHED BY CHOI DANIEL.

The family of Jun Park announce his passing on November 23, 2009 after the bloody encounter in Maguindanao led by the Ampatuan clan.

Jun will be remembered by his lover, as well as numerous other family members and friends. Jun was predeceased by his parents, and sister.

A private family service will take place at an undisclosed location.

The family would like to thank all of those who stood for the truth and the journalists that fearlessly fought for the arrival of justice and truth.

In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines and to the family of those who passed in the gruesome practice of impunity.

————

Why can't I forgive?

Danny

OFFLINE. MESSAGE WILL BE SENT LATER.


	10. A JOURNEY of a THOUSAND MILES STARTS with a SINGLE STEP

Friday is immaterial.

At least, that's how Jun described it to me.

I laid on bed, and covered myself with a thick blanket. Jun's not exactly typing quietly, and the more he pressed the backspace button, the louder he pressed and the more annoyed he got. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Writing," he said shortly. "I don't know. I'm assigned with another international case, and I might need to fly out and do some foreign correspondent stuff."

"Oh, yeah," I replied. I pushed myself up and met his naked torso as he leaned to the wall, closing his eyes. "Does the hero get the girl?" I yawned. I reached from my nightstand and took my glasses and my phone. "The hero usually gets the girl in that story," I said.

"I'm writing about Pakistan and the epidemic proportions of violence against women,"—I tried to hide my snickers by drinking some water, but even in my successful attempt, I could see the humor in his already goading stare—"but thank you for the input, I'll keep that in mind."

"You're welcome," I replied, winking at him. "Breakfast?"

"Will you be cooking?"

I tapped my chest three times and pointed at him, imitating one of the many hip-hop artists we used to check from when we were in high school. He shook his head, but he pouted and pointed back, nodding his head. "You want anything? I think I still have enough pancake mix in the fridge to make some crepe."

"Crepe is fine. I want the peach and mango mix," he said. He picked himself and followed me as we trotted downstairs. "That mix is just perfect, like sex on a plate."

"Does it always have to be sex when it's good?"

"Duh," he replied. "And, there's just the two of us here. Imagine your mom's horror if she heard me describing peach and mango mix as sex on plate. I would be kicked out of your home."

"Oh, come on," I uttered, "my mom isn't that bad. It's just that she walked in on us. We might've scared her to death by showing the sexual anatomy of two guys having an intercourse."

Jun cooed. He followed me from the fridge and kissed me on the back of my neck. "Why are you so shy? You can say fucking instead of intercourse. That's very textbook-like of you."

"It's for that reason that I don't want to use fucking," I said, my voice falling soft. "You'll tease me, and I won't hear the end of it. Oh, Danny-boy likes it dirty. He likes fucking and so on and so forth."

Friday is immaterial. Almost irrelevant. It's the peace no one really notices and finds it boring, even. But with Jun, every immaterial Friday is just fun.

And, it doesn't help that I'm stupidly happy when he's around, like there's a balloon in my chest and it grows and grows and grows until I'm a bundle of ready to burst warmth. We always find a way to fill our need for warmth in each other's presence even when we're both busy.

He would sit in his side of the room, while I'm on the floor and I'm treading my path for my next project. We're happy in that silence that every click from the keyboard and every turn of the page of a book sounded like a kindling fire for a cold evening outdoors. Then, I would just approach him and lay my head on his lap as I prepared my calendar for another month of action.

Jun never minds it. He would show me his calendar with pride from time to time, but oftentimes found himself groaning with the lack of commonplace projects that occurred somewhere in the Philippines.

"I ordered books again," he said, smiling from the gap between my hands and phone. "I have a friend from Thailand who's selling a lot of his books about philosophy. He even has Camus and Kierkeegard in the collection."

"You're really turning this house into a library, huh?" I remarked.

He stuck his tongue out, shaking his head. Instead of being annoyed, I pushed myself up and kissed his tongue. He pulled in and closed his mouth. "That's what you get for annoying Danny," I said.

"You naughty, naughty boy," he said, pouting, at first but breaking into a smile soon. "I think we should have a fun librarian-teacher roleplay tonight."

"Anything but that," I answered.

"Oh, come on, don't you want to crawl under my table and play with my one-eyed dragon?"

I laughed. He's trying to act sexy by grinning and then biting and licking his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows, but I just laughed. "My libido has spiraled down."

The thing with Fridays is that it has to be appreciated regardless of its irrelevance. Just like presence and feelings, regardless of their irrelevance, there has to be some appreciation set to keep it uneventful.

We spent our immaterial Fridays on each other's arms. Often naked. Often in bed. Then, when we awoke, we would kiss each other better.

Perhaps I latched on him too much. He became the single most important part of my life and spot of my universe.

Things start and end with Jun, and the futility of making a person your all is when they're gone, you're left with nothing.

You're a rogue planet that was lost and was hoping for a gravitational pull to take you, but when it did, it wouldn't be the same or as strong as what it used to be.

Another immaterial Friday arrived, we woke up and shared breakfast in silence. He pinched my cheeks, smiling as he took another bite of the french toast I prepared. I made sure to toast his bread to brown hardness with a piece of egg fried on top of it. "This is really good," he said. "I'm gonna miss this a lot."

I rubbed my forehead on his palm, kissing the back of his hand before I let go of it. We have received our schedules already. I'm going to Afghanistan on the twenty-fifth of November, while he's transiting to Maguindanao on the twenty-second of November before he heads to Iraq.

We have talked about the commonplace situations we encountered during our projects that the greatest of threats sound like a bluff due to its nature.

So we're prepared to encounter danger along the way. Especially, when it comes to the Taliban of Afghanistan and the rallying and fighting Kurds of Iraq. We knew that tomorrow was never promised.

But on our immaterial Friday, Jun opened something that made the Friday less uneventful.

"I think I'll stay in the Philippines after my Iraq stint," he said. "I'm going to cover the national election for 2010, and I'm very excited for it."

"Is that right? I've heard of the candidates already. It seems like the campaigning is full steam ahead." I remembered how I'm pretty much annoyed by the Manny Villar presidency advertisement. "What are you going to do in Maguindanao anyway?"

"It's the usual menial chasing of a story. Though, threats are made to Mangudadatu who would be filing his COC. You know what is said?"

"What?" I asked.

"That he's going to be chopped to pieces if he filed his candidacy. The Bulletin sleuthed the story and sent me to get a few words from the one who received the threats."

"Oh, gee!" My hands trembled, looking at Jun who just shrugged his shoulders to my reaction. "Are you still going?"

He nodded. "We've faced worse than a threat of this level. I'm pretty sure this would be a bluff, but it never hurts to be careful, right?"

I nodded, but I still looked at him with worry. I could see light draining on him that I thought he's going to disappear from where he's sitting. "I don't know," I said. "I find it a little suspicious, and I know I said that a lot in the years we're together. But, shouldn't there be some, I don't know, police intervention and an investigation sent to those who sent the message?"

"I think so, too, and I'm pretty sure they had done it already. Come Monday, the twenty-third of November, it'll be over and it'll become something they would put in their black propaganda."

"Why are you so cool?" I asked, grinning.

He shrugged. "Genes, I guess."

I always thought that I should have stopped him. But we don't usually meddle in the decisions of our bosses and the circumstances we accept. Most of the time, we just remind each other to be careful and be vigilant of the surrounding. In the case death is inevitable, we told each other to die with dignity intact.

I should have known better.

I prepared his luggage and made sure to pack enough underwear and socks. He wore a purple flannel dress shirt on top of a white shirt. I also packed him a violet scarf. Just to make sure he wouldn't feel cold or be sunburnt when he's in Iraq.

I should have known better.

I drove him to the airport, keeping tabs of his ticket and IDs. I also made sure that his Press ID is inside his wallet just to make sure he wouldn't forget it.

I should have known better.

"I hate to say this, but would you just decline the Maguindanao stint?"

"What's this about?"

"Your handsome boyfriend is scared," I said. "Plus, I just find it suspicious that none of what you've spoken is covered on TV."

"Hey," he said, kissing me on the cheeks. "I'll be okay. After my transit to Maguindanao, it will become a boring write-up that I need to finish. It will become unnecessary to the improvement of journalism but very useful for mudslinging. I'll be okay. I mean, I'm jealous of your project because it's another high-profile case. We'll be okay. Do your best to put some good out there. I love you, Danny."

I should have known better.

"I will try. Always trying. I love you, too, Jun! Be careful!" He exited my car and kissed me from the outside.

I should have known better.

I watched him make his way to the airport, feeling the need to call for him and to beg for him to stay.

I should have known better.

For if I did, he would still be alive.

"Jun," I muttered, watching him leave. "Jun," I whispered, as he disappeared into the crowd. "Jun, don't go!" I shouted, but he's too far away to hear me.

————

"Jun!"

I pushed myself up from where I was laid. Immediately, a stinging sensation erupted from my arm, and Junkyu arrived to stop me from charging out.

"Hey, hey!" He said, smiling towards me. "Welcome back, Danny. Are you okay? It seems like you're having a nightmare. Did you see Jun?"

Junkyu consoled me to nodding my head as he led me back to bed. "Let's return to bed, okay? Don't worry. You're not in any danger. You just passed out last night, and Jaden and I were afraid that you might dehydrate yourself and that it might cause serious complications, so we brought you to the hospital."

"The dream..." I looked at Junkyu whose smile suddenly changed into curiosity. "It's almost lifelike. Those uneventful Fridays. Those... what are those?"

"Danny…" Junkyu said, scratching the back of his head. "Those are dreams. It shows you whatever it is the residue of your day through your subconscious state. You are dreaming."

I thought so. I nodded to Junkyu, smiling. "I saw him again, you know. He's still as handsome and as charming as the day he left me. I mean, Jun has been very dynamic, but I know something's amiss with his last project, and I know that not everything the policemen of a municipality would do things above board. He's gone again. I watched him leave again."

"Danny," Junkyu muttered. He sat down on bed and embraced me for a minute. "No one ever finds comfort in memory. You might think that the past is beautiful, but the greatest punishment and reward of time is that it moves forward. And you have to do the same, too."

I nodded. Perhaps I latched onto him that when I lost him, I lost myself, too. But I don't need to stay lost forever. "I'll do it," I said. "For Jun, too. I don't want to make his sacrifices turn into waste. And for the people who needed us the most."

"We're so damn worried about you," he said, trying to appear stern but his frown fell into a smile. "You should have told me that you're a functioning alcoholic. You've had eight shots of vodka. And then you just passed out."

"Did I puke, too?"

"Yeah. On me. Jaden couldn't stop laughing about it." I looked at him apologetically, but he didn't seem to mind it because of the humoring smile he has. "Anyway, when is the last time you've had your Varicella shot?"

I cocked my head to him. "What's that?"

"Chickenpox vaccine," he said. "Do you still remember, or you don't?"

"I don't know. I kept an updated flu shot, but I'm not sure with varicella."

"I think that's fine. I'll ask Dr. Takata while we're on the way to give you a varicella shot. It's good that you're keeping tabs with the flu shot, though. Do you know those are live attenuated influenza?"

"No, what about it?"

"Nothing, really. What we're going to do is that we're putting the weakened virus to you, so that your immunoresponse will be stimulated. Then, we'll set sail."

"Where's Jaden, by the way?"

"Oh, him," Junkyu said. "He paid for your bill. We used your card, by the way. I hope you don't mind."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry for making you worry, too. What time are we going to leave for Polillo?"

"It's only three p.m., so we might leave around five p.m. Dr. Takata messaged me earlier that he's at Real Port already. The boat docked already and that the volunteers are stacking up the boxes we would bring."

"How many of us would be there?"

He shrugged. "Not more than twenty, I guess."

"Really?" I asked. "I hope the trip won't take long."

"It would," he said, still smiling. "We have five hours of sea travel ahead of us, so we'll bond a lot."

I might've frowned at the instant he said the time because he burst out laughing. "It's the truth, too. So, it's time to face your anxiety."

I sighed. I've experienced worse is what I wanted to remind myself of, but I've never been good with groups. Especially, when I need to work with them. It's exhausting, really. But if it's the way it is.

"What's cracking, you fat dinks! Jaden's back, you dumb, dumb, idiots! When are we moving?"

"Now," Junkyu said.

"Really?"

"Yeah." He nodded. The attending nurses took the dextrose needle out of my arm and replaced it with a sterilized cotton. "Let's go."

He yanked me up and dragged me and Jaden out.

I wish I could say I'm excited, but I'm also scared and anxious, and I hope that I could take Xanax in secret because the thought of it is enough to make my heart race.

————

From: David Watanabe  
To: Daniel Choi

Danny,

Are you okay? I read what you just sent, and I don't really want to pry, but what's that about? Are you okay?

David

PS: I'm sorry for not checking the rest of your messages. I'm stuck in an 18-hour shift.

————

From: Daniel Choi  
To: David Watanabe

David,

What are you talking about? Did I send anything other than our correspondence?

Oh, and don't worry about it. I'm sent to the hospital because of a massive hangover. I mean why does that happen? I'm such a dork.

Danny

————

From: David Watanabe  
To: Daniel Choi

Danny,

This.

——————

David,

————

PARK JUN'S OBITUARY AS WRITTEN AND PUBLISHED BY CHOI DANIEL.

The family of Jun Park announced his passing on November 23, 2009 after the bloody encounter in Maguindanao led by the Ampatuan clan.

Jun will be remembered by his lover, as well as numerous other family members and friends. Jun was predeceased by his parents, and sister.

A private family service will take place at an undisclosed location.

The family would like to thank all of those who stood for the truth and the journalists that fearlessly fought for the arrival of justice and truth.

In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines and to the family of those who passed in the gruesome practice of impunity.

————

Why can't I forgive?

Danny

—————

Are you okay? You want to talk about it?

David

————

From: Daniel Choi  
To: David Watanabe

David,

Oh, that... I'm really sorry, David. I might've sent that during one of my drunken misadventures last night.

As you can see, it's Jun's obituary. It's crazy, really, and I don't know where to begin, but yesterday's Jun's death anniversary. You know, the eighth anniversary of the Maguindanao Massacre. I might've already told you also that he passed in that incident.

I just can't find the will to forgive myself. I should have stopped him. I should have known better.

I'm sorry, David.

Danny

PS: You can also reach me in this number: (+63) XXX-XXXX-XXX.

————

Junkyu took over the drive.

He seemed to be gleefully humming as The Night We Met by Lord Huron reverberated in our vehicle. 

Meanwhile, Jaden seemed to be content in just leaning his head to the window, whistling the slow tune of the same song we're playing.

"So we're going to meet Dr. Takata," Junkyu said. "I already told him that I'm bringing two more volunteers, so just prepare yourself for the vaccine."

"Do we need to present something?" Jaden asked. "I don't think I brought any identification with me except my TIN id."

Junkyu just shook his head. "Since you're with me, there's no need to bring identification anymore, but I must also remind you that the signal reception in Polillo is not exactly stellar, so if you need to inform people, better do it while we're still in Real."

Sighing, my mother immediately entered my noggin. I know she spent a lot of time with me and the farewell should have been more personal, but I hope that letter is enough to permit me to leave. She has been incredibly strong. It's time for me to show her that I could bounce back.

"Anyway, we're here," Junkyu said. "Oh, yeah, Danny, you can use the lot of the warehouse to park, so don't fret about your car."

"To be honest, I forgot about my car already. I'm so glad you reminded me because if I remembered it in a spur of moment kind of way, I would hyperventilate."

"I know you would," Junkyu replied. "Anyway, let's go. You need some help, Jaden?"

Jaden shook his head and opened the car door. "I'm not crippled, you know."

"Didn't say you were," he replied.

A lanky man approached our vehicle. He must be around his thirties or younger. He hosted a friendly smile as he waved his arms to us.

"That's Dr. Takata. He likes being called Mashi, though. So you might want to use the latter to make him feel less intimidated."

"Why would he be intimidated?" I asked.

"I don't know either," he said, shrugging. "But, I guess, it's a response when you know you're meeting new people. Also we have a list of really impressive people who volunteered, so we fight our fear by telling ourselves that we're all equal in the eyes of the creator."

"You're crazy, Junkyu," I said, laughing.

"Amen to that," Jaden interjected.

I followed Jaden who was holding on to Dr. Takata's arm. He has a small smile that seems to show gratitude while the other man is cautiously leading him.

Dr. Takata wears a blue cardigan with imprints of a snowman. He also has a full smile that seemed to invite a lot of impression that he's friendly. In addition, he appeared to be grateful for the number of people that stood inside the warehouse.

"You must be, Daniel," he said.

I nodded. "That's right," I answered. "Dr. Takata, I presume."

"You presume correctly," he said. "But, please, call me Mashi. Dr. Takata is so hoity-toity, and I don't really think I should be called doctor outside my clinic or the hospital."

"No problem, Mashi," I said. "Anyway, what's your line of profession? Are you a surgeon?"

"Oh, no, I'm an epidemiologist from WHO, but I also work as a clinical physician. It's impressive on its own, really, but nothing as elaborate as being a surgeon." He looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for my next words, but I really don't know what to say. I guess Junkyu isn't lying when he said that there were people who were just impressive. "I'm happy that you volunteered to cover the story of the chickenpox outbreak in Polillo. I mean, Junkyu has been staining the rag of his own initiative by picking fights with different people in the health sector. I get his point, but he should at least try to be agreeable."

"Was he that bad?"

He sighed. "I wish I could exaggerate my claims, but he's just trying to stir a reaction from the public. So being shady is the course of action to use."

Looking at Junkyu who is approaching us, being shady does suit him. He always smiles when angry and laughs when he's attacked. He's not exactly easy to offend, too. "Is it successful?"

"I would give it to him," Mashi said. "He's just too good. Anyway, the blind volunteer, what's his name? He seemed tired."

I looked from afar and saw Jaden speaking to another man. He's incredibly tall, even from afar that I thought I would be dwarfed in the case he approached us. "Oh, he is. I'm really sorry. We had too much to drink last night, and it just spiraled from there. He's Jaden. He's also a doctor—used to be, I mean, but he seems to be a good leader in times of great need."

"Oh, Jaden Kamenari," Mashi exclaimed. "Junkyu talked about him through a barrage of text messages earlier. He said that Jaden volunteered to be the resource speaker for a seminar about the importance of vaccination. Junkyu even listed his activities from when they're younger."

"They go way back," I said.

"I can tell. If you were to tell me they used to date, I would believe it, too."

"What're you talking about?" Junkyu said, laughing. "I'm a strong, independent rock who needs no man or woman."

We arrived at the warehouse where one of the nurses is starting the vaccination. Jaden squinted his eyes as he received his shot for varicella. "You're good to go," she said.

"Are you updated with your shots, Danny?" Mashi asked.

"Sad to say, I'm not. I have my yearly flu shots, though."

"Neat," he said. "Just fall in line, then, and you'll get vaccinated in a few."

Just like what Junkyu said, there must've been twenty-something volunteers, falling in line as they await for their turn to be vaccinated. I was situated at the back of the taller gentleman who smiled at me when our eyes met.

"Good afternoon," I said. "Too many people, right?"

"Right," he replied, snickering. "But I heard this is great for awakening some sense of camaraderie, but I've never been in a large group myself. I often gravitate to trios or duos, you know what I'm saying?"

"I'm the same," I said, slouching my shoulder. "But we make lemonades with the lemons, right?"

"Exactly, anyway, I'm So Junghwan," he said. "I'm an Electronics Engineer, and I don't know what else to say." He laughed.

"I'm Daniel Choi, but you can just call me Danny. I'm a foreign correspondent, or I used to be a foreign correspondent, but now I'm not really doing anything at all."

He nodded. "That sounds impressive," he said. "What do you usually cover?" He asked. He cocked his head to the side as the line went shorter and shorter.

"Civil wars and some chaotic struggle in war-torn nations," I muttered, aptly.

"Okay, I'm hooked," he said, "mind if we sat together?"

I shook my head. He's really nice. Almost like a little brother who likes to ask questions. "Anyway, I would just like to know, why did you volunteer?"

"Have you ever felt scared of doing something new?"

I nodded. "Yes, but I always overcome it. After all, fear is often greater than the danger itself."

"Well, I haven't," he said. "And I don't know if that's something to be proud of, given that I rarely do anything that helps the community. I want to make the first step, too."

"So this is the first step for you?"

He shrugged. "I would know if I answered one fundamental question of trying something helpful: have I become less of a menace and more of someone in society? If so, then, how? If I could answer that, then I know I made the right stride." He smiled at me, as if seeing what I kept hidden in my chest.

Instead of answering, I nodded. For I felt the same, and I also ask for the same question: will I become less of a menace in these steps I'm taking?

Just like him, I yearned for some answers, too.


	11. HARD IS IT TO CORRECT A HABIT ALREADY FORMED

There are two types of people they said, the one with the conscientious will and the one with the willful conscience.

Having a conscientious will meant that your conscience takes over the decision-making process. It also meant that a decision is firm and unmoving if it subscribes to the idea of morality imposed by the way of living.

Perhaps, it's like undergoing volunteer work, and one thinks that it is the right thing to do because it promotes a just change. But volunteering doesn't come without its baggage. There are deterring forces, too, that would make decision-making and the mixing of conscience to be rather difficult.

Thinking about it now, the medical mission I employed myself in is not exactly a walk in the park. I'm not familiar with the local population and the culture, tradition, and regulation it entails. If I had a conscientious will, then my decision is to learn more about the group before I drop myself in the area of the state of emergency.

It is a smart move to have doubts and to think about a situation prior to an entry.

So Junghwan has a conscientious will.

On the other hand, having a willful conscience meant that your conscience, while part of the decision-making process, is not exactly active in the undertaking. It seeps. It reminds. It shows possibilities of trouble or pain or mistakes, or even success. It shows. It lingers. But the choice to acknowledge it is in the hands of the decision-maker.

One does think of inadequate infrastructure, corruption, and unfamiliar diseases and medication, but this person will still push through because they feel like they need to and they know that they have to help.

Their will grows bigger than their conscience that it's easy for them to decide, but it's also very easy for them to be corrupted that they become selfish or impulsive.

Dr. Kim Junkyu has a willful conscience.

It wasn't strange, though. Difference is great because that meant the existing difference could help each other to fill the shortcomings of each trait. But none of us knows the entire effect of the difference to the mission.

I should have known that it would ripple and provide outcomes that will branch to other portions of our lives.

I should have known but the trip leading to Polillo Island isn't exactly prophetic.

Jaden didn't follow me, too. Instead, he sat with Dr. Takata who was briefing some of the nurses and doctors regarding their assignments. Meanwhile, Junghwan followed me. He stopped at the aisle, looking at the three chairs with such hesitation that he couldn't sit.

"Something wrong?" I asked. He smiled at me. He has a boyish smile, like Jaden, that seems to show how mild and agreeable he is.

"Do you have preferred seating?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not really. If you want to take the seat nearest to the window, please do." He nodded his head, yet instead of sitting, he let me in first and led me to the window seat. "You don't want the window seat?"

He nodded. "I don't. I'm cool with the middle seat."

"Okay," I said, smiling. "Anyway how did you learn about the call for volunteers?" He returned the smile, at first. But then he chuckled and scratched the back of his head.

"A friend suggested it," he said. "He's a nurse, and he's been dying to do this kind of work. He said that he would accompany me that I also enlisted to volunteer. I also used up two weeks of my leave at the site," he said, still chuckling.

"Oh, really?" I said, looking around the room. Jaden is demonstrating how to apply a splint and the right way to use an epiphen. The nurse seemed amused—even smitten with the way Jaden smiled and joked around the volunteers. "Is your friend here?"

"That's the thing," he said, now giggling. "Something came up and he had to withdraw from the plan."

"That's unfortunate," I said. "But it's good that you were able to follow through."

"Can I be honest?" He asked, looking down.

"You're not really into this kind of work?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he said, "although I'm not demeaning this kind of work, I just feel like it isn't for me, and I raise this issue to my friend because I'm informed two days prior—promotion, you know how that could happen—and I'm ready to back out, too." He looked up, smiling. "Then he told me that this is the first step for what he thought to be a change of perspective. Change isn't easy, and I don't think just volunteering will bring that change, I need to do something that is not as forced as volunteering here that will bring a change."

I nodded. "But isn't that difficult? Expecting to change something in the world?"

He shrugged. "The world is arguing for trying," he said. "It might sound so messianic, but I'm not really expecting to curb anything or to fight corruption, I just want to leave something better in the world, and if I did, I'm set to believe that I brought some changes to their lives." He leaned to the backrest of his seat, sighing. "I just wish that I could do it," he said. "My friends used to tell me that I can be difficult because of my obsession to make the ultimate decision leading to my indecision."

"I can relate to that," I said. "You know how decisions are like entering a dark passage that you couldn't exit from where you enter, so you have to see through it up to the end? Decisions are scary like that, but we still do make lots of it daily."

He nodded. "My friend told me that the ultimate decision is to make a decision because none of us could foresee the ripples it would make. So we hang on to faith and think that whatever it is, it is what it is," he said, shaking his head. "I find that difficult. Very difficult."

Difficult. I always think of that word as a way to blockade an action: it's difficult, I can't do it. It's difficult. Chances are I would fail miserably and spectacularly. It's difficult, but sometimes we forget that having the ability to decide meant that we're part of the children of the lesser god. For all we know, there are people in this world who are exploited and used to near death without any say about their outcome.

Suddenly, I felt the descent of the light from my mind, and the world seemed to turn dim. A portion of my mind is shutting down that the faculty of concentration seemed to fail.

Yet I remained looking in. 

"But you're here," I said. "You might not know the morality of your decision, but that doesn't mean you're helpless or beyond helping. You can always do something to help."

He looked at me, smiling. He nodded his head as he put his attention at the darkened view of the sea. "I guess you're right," he said. "I guess you're right."

Although silence made a brief entry, Junkyu's stopping at our spot meant that he's smiling widely towards us, shaking his head in brief annoyance but changing it to delight when Junghwan faced him.

"We might dock a little later than ten," he said. "I hope you're not as hungry as I assume everyone to be."

He joined our space, sitting on the aisle seat and exhaling audibly. He put his hand to his face and exhaled again, exasperatedly. "What's up?" I asked. He looked up, smiling.

"There's an enemy ahead," he said.

"What?" I asked again. This time, Junghwan seemed to pick up the gravity of Junkyu's position and started paying attention, too.

"There are bands of parish priests and religious zealots alike who are opposing the medical mission. They said that the people lack faith and not in medicine."

"What?" Junghwan said. "There are people who still believe that?"

Junkyu sighed, nodding. "Sad to say, religion still poses as an anchor that prevents the motion of the mission in Polillo Island. They're informed of the gravity of the situation and the ramifications if it were not fought medically. And it's sad that some people believe them more than us."

"Then what's going to happen?" I asked.

"Will we face their wrath?" Junghwan asked. "I mean, are they even allowed to meddle in a health crisis?"

"We have the full support of the municipal government lately—and they're starting to allot some budget in order to curb the infection, but it's just really hard to influence the faith of the people in medicine and religion," he said. He leaned on the backrest and smiled at us. "I'm ready for a fight, though. It's just... Those people know how to press my buttons and in return, I fight back like an idiot."

"Is it necessary to fight?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I just don't like being herded into certainty, and maybe that's the reason it annoys me so much. They're always pointing to the certainty of failure because of some events in the past," he said. He groaned and pushed himself forward. "Nothing is ever certain," he said. "Not life. Not success. Not glory or gore. Nothing."

Junghwan and I looked at Junkyu, rather mildly at first that I reached out and patted his head. "I'm sorry for ranting," he said. "I didn't know what got in me."

"It's alright," Junghwan said. "If it'll help you, you can join us here and just tell us your worries," he said.

"Oh, thank you, Junghwan. I'm really happy already that you volunteered to help in installing the solar panels and to assist in building some of our mobile clinics," he said, smiling. "Employing you as my vent buddy is not a good position. I'm a little ranty," he said.

"I don't mind," Junghwan answered. "I don't mind being someone's vent buddy."

"Bless your heart, Junghwan," he said. "I'll take you on that offer pretty soon."

The trip is peaceful. Which is a little unsettling. I don't know how to explain the feeling, but the silence around me seems to push my lucid self away and I'm starting to see Jun again, standing outside, waving at me from the sea. I shook my head and looked away, and then, there's Jaden, looking at me, worried.

I waved at him, smiling. Not minding Jun outside. Not minding the longing. Not minding thanatos.

————

POLILLO RELIGIOUS GROUP CALLS FOR PRAYERS, NOT VACCINES.

NOVEMBER XX, 20XX

The state of emergency was applied in Polillo Island last week as the chickenpox epidemic grew in number and infected 200 more.

The arrival of the humanitarian aid meant that the volunteers could continue their mission, for medicine and vaccine are among the few of the help sent.

However, The Lord is my Shepherd, a religious group active in Polillo, called out the risks of vaccination and immunization which "might worsen the situation". Rev. Arturo Rotor pointed out and reminded the locals that they shouldn't forget the Dengvaxia crisis that 'killed' 600 children from when it's used in the public.

He called for stronger faith and to never stop praying to heal their land.

Dr. Kim Junkyu and Dr. Takata Mashiho didn't provide any response regarding the statement of Rev. Rotor.

————

Two hours had passed and we're still travelling, experiencing the battering waves that made the boat rock a little.

A lull that won't leave, but I'm lucky that Jun's here. He entered the boat, carrying his bag with the usual confidence and excitement he carried.

He approached me, smiling. Kissing me on the cheeks. I am standing, too, making my way to the toilets.

"Where are you going?" Jun asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know," I said, lost in his eyes once again that seemed to call for more of my attention and mercy. "I don't know where I am or what I am doing. I just... I'm feeling weak."

I saw Junghwan darted a glance at me, while Junkyu's smile was slowly fading away. "I think I'm getting sea sick or sea fatigue... is there such a thing? I don't know, I might just need to walk a few." Jun immediately approached me. He has a naughty smile in his cheeks that seems to tell me that I'm being stubborn.

"Come on, sit down," he said. "Danny, don't go around walking. You're not well."

"Are you okay, Danny?" Junkyu asked, coaxing me to return to where I'm sitting.

"Oh, Junkyu, please, don't listen to Jun. He's being a worrywart," I said. Which is true. He's always pouting around and watching me whenever I'm feeling unwell, but I'm fine, really. Just a general weakness that is common when I'm travelling by boat. "And Jun, don't make my friends worry. Okay, fine, you're cute yourself."

"Please, sit down, Danny," Jun told me. He grabbed my arm and was trying to drag me back to my place unsuccessfully.

"Is he okay?" Junghwan asked.

"I think I'm not," I said, chuckling. "I'm nearing full pickle to have a pickle party."

"What's happening?" Jaden, along with Mashi, also approached us. "Are you okay, Danny?"

"Why is everyone so worried?" I'm sick of it. Just because I could see Jun doesn't mean that I'm in danger. "I just need to take my meds. Yes, I'm sorry I skipped it, Jun. I've met a young man, oh... he's here... he's Junghwan. The tall guy... yes... he's an engineer."

"Where's your bag, Danny?"

I didn't pay attention to Jaden who kept tabs with Junkyu as they looked at the content of my bag. He pulled out ten pieces of pen and three highlighters. Though, Jaden looked at me disapprovingly, I just shrugged at him. "I have a shit-ton of pen there. I didn't throw it," I said, laughing a little.

When they found my medicine, Junkyu gasped inaudibly as he saw three more clear containers for my medicine. I have fluoxetine, olanzapine, and lithium. "You need to take your meds now, Danny," Jaden said. Mashi also handed over his bottled water, smiling at me.

My blind companion brought me to another line of chairs where I have some space to get some air for myself. "What happened there?" He asked. "What happened to you?"

"I need to see him," I said. "Have you ever felt that some loneliness is contagious?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, I don't know, I… don't know the extent of my loneliness but when I heard of difficulty, my mood fell—like instantly, and I don't mean like, oh, look at me, I'm falling in a cute way. It's spiraling in a way with nothing to consider."

"Danny, you shouldn't skip your meds. Mood stabilizers are not quick-acting, you know? And so are antidepressants."

"Is he okay? Does he need medical attention?" Mashi approached us again. He had a small smile that seemed friendly and sincere.

"I would inform you, if so, Mashi. I just need to take care of him for thirty minutes."

"Are you sure?" He asked. Jaden nodded.

"I've seen his worst episode. There's no crying, so he's lucid amid the psychotic episode."

"Bipolar?"

Jaden nodded.

"I'm sorry for troubling you, Mashi. I saw Jun, you know. You know Jun? I met him when I joined our school paper back in high school, and he hated my guts so bad. But he also respected how I'm not afraid to write about… what am I writing even? He called it unorthodox." I laughed. "But I don't know, something must have gone wrong along the way because he's not here anymore."

"Danny, shut up!" Jaden said. "I'll just take care of him. You can return to the session, Mashi, thank you."

Mashi didn't protest when Jaden asked him to return. In fact, he tipped his head and grinned at us. "Stay safe now," he said, turning to his back.

"Mashi is nice, you know," I told Jaden. "I think he's the perfect balance of someone who is personally and collectively good. I mean, look at him, he has no problem interacting with the community he brought here."

"Where are you getting at?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, really. I just feel like I'm not entirely useful in terms of building a community. I'm not just a journalist anymore. I'm part of the team now."

"Are you scared?"

I shrugged. "Should I be? I mean, should this volunteer work be meaningful? I think when I drag you here, I would fare better because I'm physically able, but... I'm feeling like I'm here because of a supposed usefulness that can be done alone."

"Danny," Jaden muttered.

"Look, look," I said. "I'm sorry for bringing the mood down, and I think I'll just be endlessly sorry forever, but when I look at everyone here, I don't see an individual—I don't see an island or a puddle. I'm seeing a group, a cluster, a community—and I'm scared that I might not belong."

"Is that an imperative?"

I nodded. "As much as I want to say that I'm not born to fit in, fitting in is the best option for me. I'm pretty much into the lonesome picture of life. I mean, Jun's death told me that losing someone is a painful experience, and I don't want to lose anyone anymore because I would die if it happens again."

"Danny…"

"Then, I looked at you and Junkyu, and I thought, oh, darn! I can still find some peace and personal kindness towards people. I'm not an island. I can still face people as an individual without pitting a goal in my head that is monumental or for community. Then I thought of what we used to do, and I looked at you and all I can feel is thanatos."

"The death drive," he muttered.

"Bingo," I said, chuckling. "I fear that if I were to lose the both of you due to my lack of effort to belong, I might die because of loneliness."

Jaden nodded. He hugged me tight and made sure to hold me proper.

"What are you doing, Jaden?"

"Oh, you fat dink! I'm hugging you, idiot! Look, loneliness is a sign that you should find an avenue to open up and put yourself in the care of the people you care about. You don't have to endure some loneliness. You don't have to deny yourself of community or adventure. I did that long ago and I regret it so bad that I don't want to make the same mistake." He pushed me a little to face me. His eyes were the sincerest green of all that it felt like calling to me to drown myself in. "You fear death? You think you're the only one? We fear death, too, but you need to conquer that fear because death is a fact and a truth of life. We will one way or another cease to exist, but our community shall not and you need to be part of it."

"Jaden," I said, smiling. "Jun is waving at me from the sea. He has the prettiest smile of all that I couldn't believe I would see again."

"Jun?"

"Yes," I said. "He's standing on the water, following the waves that the boat brought. Then, he told me to take care of myself because he needs to go again."

"Then, you should follow him."

The other types of people depend not on their decision but on their interaction. Jun once told me, "loneliness is a by-product of not meeting your social needs." And just like that, I learned that beyond physical and mental needs, the need to connect is part of our health that needs sustenance.

A person could be a personal kind or a collective kind.

If you're a personal kind, just like me, it means that you prioritise kindness towards the people you interact with. You see them as people worthy of respect and proper treatment that you can offer as individuals.

I guess it's the major reason I don't find it difficult to see Jaden, Junkyu, and Junghwan as my friends. I don't find it difficult to think that connecting is easy.

But a difficulty for me is establishing a collective kindness—the kindness that stretches from an individual to a community of people who hold the same goal with different motives.

Do people really trust the commune they're in as an extension of themselves?

What if there are irreconcilable differences? Would that mean that the interaction is tainted and one should be rejected?

I looked out once again, waving to Jun who laughed as the boat met a bigger wave that it easily weathered. I looked at him, and then to Jaden and Junkyu and Junghwan.

Thinking of thanatos. But also thinking of its meaning to me.

'I don't want to die,' is what I told myself. But dying seemed to be staying for awhile.


	12. TO KNOW WHEN TO FEAR IS TO KNOW TO BE IN THE PATH OF SAFETY

MUGABE'S CAMPAIGN BRINGS OUT A NEW TACTIC: RAPE

MAY 2X, 200X

— The solemnity and peace of St. Paul's Catholic Mission School didn't offer the same to Tabitha (16) who is a victim of the campaign of systemic rape and violence by the thugs terrorizing Zimbabwe's countryside on behalf of President Robert Mugabe's Zanu-PF party. —

Tiny. Delicate. Innocent. Too young to vote for the upcoming election.

Tabitha has no understanding of the politics behind the brutal attack on her as she walk to nearby shops with her friend, Florence. She sat on the couch, spacing out as she clawed on the white woolen cloth wrapped on her. She speaks in a monotonous voice, afraid that if she spoke louder, the men who attacked her would return.

"I have lost my virginity and I want only death," she said.

St. Paul's Catholic Mission School in Murewa has become a target for Zanu-PF activists after they entered the school and found T-shirts signifying support for the opposing group, Movement for Democratic Change (MDC). They beat up two teachers and three teenage girls and accused them for disseminating MDC propaganda. The teachers are stooges and the girls are influenced, they said, for white imperialists out to destroy Zimbabwe.

Until their arrival, Tabitha loves her job in the mission school where she earns money and sends her earning to her family of subsistence farmer. She also enjoys the friendship she finds among schoolgirls who she can talk and gossip while she prepares their meal.

One afternoon earlier this month, she finished cooking lunch and put on a new blue dress and strolled out of the compound with her friend, Florence (16). The two girls chatted as they strolled down a dirt road leading a short path from St. Pauls to Musami Shopping Center to buy meat for the following day's meals.

Tabitha was proud, happy, that she's trusted of the mission's money. It was like play-acting as a wife or a mother she dreamt of for her future. She had no fears. Murewa is a village of traditional brick houses with thatched roofs, where people instinctively look out for each other. She remembered running her hands to the poinsettias that grew on the length of the fences.

There's no reason for fear and to fear the atmosphere from when she stepped out of the mission school.

The girls might have felt different had they paid more attention to national politics. The ruling power, Zanu-PF, is facing its real challenge since the independence 20 years ago. Their reaction to MDC's opposition is to bus young supporters and war veterans into villages across the country.

They have been unleashed in an attempt to scare and cow communities into voting Zanu-PF. In Murewa, the party enforcers had taken over the local Shavanhwoye Nightclub, just a slope away from the shopping center.

It was dusk when two men wearing Zanu-PF t-shirts approached Tabitha and Florence and prevented them from passing. The men carried newly-cut switches. The girls turned and ran.

They did not get far enough, a few more Zanu-PF men came running and chased the girls like animals. Tabitha said, "they tore off my dress and I'm only in my panties. I was screaming, 'Mother! Mother!' but nobody came to save me."

Two men dragged Tabitha behind the nightclub, dropped her to the ground, and covered her face with a Forward with the Land Zanu-PF banner. One held her arm and the other raped her, then they switched positions.

"I felt a huge pain between my legs," she said, "I thought I was looking at my death."

Covered in blood, Tabitha was left to crawl away. Her screams finally brought a local shopkeeper. He took her to a hospital where she stayed for three days. Florence was found by the side of the road badly beaten about the head, back, and arms.

Physical and psychological pain are not the only traumas faced by rape victims such as Tabitha. One in four Zimbabweans is HIV-positive, so there is a chance that she's infected with the virus.

Two white women who were raped by war veterans on a farm near Harare last month flew abroad for a treatment with a cocktail of drugs to stave off potential infection. Tabitha is a poor girl and does not even have the money for a blood test.

"The people from the hospital told me that if I started feeling ill in some months, then I should come back," she said.

Cruel, though, it was, Tabitha's ordeal is virtually a routine today in rural areas of Zimbabwe. Few such incidents are reported: the police are either allied with the perpetrators or powerless to stop the attacks.

The death of four farmers focused international attention about the plights of the whites in the build-up to voting on June 24-25, but most of those falling prey to Zanu-PF are black. The violence is about politics, not race or even land.

"There is what I would call a low-intensity war going on in the rural areas," said Tony Reeler, of the Zimbabwe Human Rights Organisation. He estimates that 6,000 men, women and children have fled the rural violence for refuge in the capital.

Tabitha is one of at least eight women to have been raped in her small village alone. All the victims say their attackers came from the Zanu-PF encampment.

Elena (33), a tall and pretty mother of two said she felt luckier than others. Now hiding with relatives in Harare, she showed three knife slashes the war veteran had left on her skull and a horrific six-inch wound on her breast after she's beaten with a barbed wire.

She was left unconscious on the road after she and her friend, Gladys (33) were attacked by a group of about 30 Zanu-PF men as they walked home from Good Friday services at St. Paul's Church. Gladys suffered the worst who had been raped by four men. She still cannot walk.

Evelyn (18) and Stella (16) were forced from their home by intruders who found her washing the breakfast dishes before going to school. The girls were marched to Zanu-PF encampment along other young women who were forced to follow the men. "They told us if we ran away, we wouldn't be able to go home anymore," Evelyn said.

The raiding party eventually gathered a group of about 30 girls and marched them to the village of Ngomamowa, where they arrived in the late afternoon.

She and Stella were forced to cook sadza, a maize porridge, and elephant meat for their captors. Then they sang party songs and danced for hours. During the night, the so-called war veterans took some of the girls into a local grain mill and raped them on the concrete floor. "I don’t know how many were raped. Many," Evelyn said.

There appears to be no stopping the excesses of what Zanu-PF call its election campaign. Anyone who believes Mugabe's promise of free and fair election should spend a day in Murewa.

—————

I always picture Polillo as a tropical paradise—uncharted with virgin forests scattered around the area, and the pristine beaches along the shoreline are adorned with palm trees and teeming with life that is unbothered by the events that are happening.

I didn't expect the heavy darkness that seemed to enforce the thick atmosphere as four men in uniform approached us.

Junghwan and Jaden walked side-by-side with me, making sure to offer a helping hand whenever I found it difficult to move. "What's wrong?" Jaden asked. We suddenly stopped, too. Dr. Takata, upfront, presented his identification and the manifesto of volunteers who had their varicella shot earlier.

"Four men in uniform approached," Junghwan muttered. "They give me the skeeve," he whispered, "the municipality needs medical help, yet all you see is the militia."

"Not entirely surprised," Jaden muttered. "They always allow the military to takeover whenever a place is assigned to a state of emergency. They're here to de-escalate but can also be a discipline blockade." He shuddered, smiling wryly as Junghwan listened intently. "They impose a quarantine and if there were violators, they're not afraid to make an example out of them."

I understood that so well. The great lengths done in controlling a population had been a staple in war-torn countries. In fact, a portion of their militia tend to guard borders and spaces to make sure that they knew the people who entered and left the place.

On the other hand, Polillo Island wasn't engaged or crippled in a civil war. The battle is a health crisis. There should be more medical workers here.

"Would you mind if I approach Junkyu and Mashi?" I asked.

Junghwan shook his head while Jaden seemed to hold onto my arm tightly. "I'll accompany you," he said. "I want to hear the conversation, too."

I snickered, nodding my head. "You want to go to Junghwan?" He nodded as well.

The number of volunteer forms a barricade that seems to prevent our entry, first. Though, they're not exactly immovable. When we approached the two doctors, Junkyu sighed exasperatedly while Mashi just scratched the back of his head.

"I thought they employed contract tracers already? We have twelve barangays infected already and it might spread to the other barangays." The militiamen shrugged, not making a statement regarding what's mentioned.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Who are you?" One of the men in uniform asked.

"Choi Danny, foreign correspondent, volunteer," I said. "I'm with them,"—I pointed to Junkyu and Mashi who smiled at me—"is something wrong?"

The other two beside me didn't react. Instead, they went to the doctors who shook their heads. "We got this, Danny," Mashi said. "Can we at least head to the municipal hall already? We had four hours of travel already and there's fifteen minutes of drive from here to there and the mayor must be waiting already."

The militiamen nodded. "Everyone, please, follow us," one of the men said.

"We'll regroup at the municipal hall, okay?" Junkyu told everyone. "Some of the stuff are in the boat. Please, collect it for us. And, then, we'll drop it to the twelve barangays tomorrow morning," he said, instructing the men who nodded their heads and started marching to the dock.

One of the trucks was easily filled with volunteers who sat comfortably, smiling to each other as they engaged once again in a conversation.

"Superspreaders," Junkyu whispered to me.

"What?" I returned. I took a photo of the inside of the truck with the volunteers loading themselves in. I also took a photo of the dock where they're carrying some of the boxes that would ration the closed-up barangays.

"There is a superspreader event again, and we might need to check the next barangay over just to make sure the virus wouldn't spread there."

"Is this still chickenpox?"

He nodded. "The task has been painstaking, yet it hasn't relented at all. I mean, sure, chickenpox may not be as serious, but it has its dangers especially when not treated. I just hope there would be no additional fatalities."

"Were there fatalities already?" He nodded again.

"Usually, the really young and really old, and the immunocopromised. This will be a busy week for us," he said, smiling. "We're also waiting for more varicella vaccine from the health sector and a few more antiviral medicines."

"When will it arrive?" I entered the truck and sat in one of the available spots. I saw Jaden with Mashi, explaining the events that transpired and their course of action.

"I don't know," Junkyu whispered. "Tomorrow... the day after tomorrow... the week after next. I'm getting impatient, but it's a logistics hell, so I'm maintaining my considerate stance."

Remembering the places I've been, they had it harder, too. From Basra to Kabul to Harare to Tripoli to Homs. It's always the hellish scape of travelling ration that prevented help from arriving on time.

Of course, there were bad people who prevented the help from leaving the capital and the city that caused more casualties.

I'm familiar with death, and I have encountered struggles that I've lived to tell the tale. But in a country not enveloped in a civil war, help still found itself having difficulty in arriving.

Are we depending in some foreign god for foreigner's delight?

"I hope there's enough for everyone," I said.

He shrugged. "I hope so," he said, "what we're planning to do is to vaccinate the people from the places that are not yet infected. And, for the places with high concentration of the infected, we're going house-by-house to make sure they get the daily dose of medicine needed to cure the infection. For those who had it worse, we have some facilities in between three barangays where we can observe their health without the chance to infect others."

"That seems elaborate," I muttered.

He groaned. "Right?!" He exclaimed, sighing. "But that's the reason it's a logistics hell. Plus, we're still encountering rotating power outages, so that's where Junghwan would enter the scene. He would help in installing the solar panels to provide more electricity for the facility and then we'll try to branch it out to generate power for the barangays, too."

"You have it all planned, huh?"

"I have Dr. Takata to thank for that," he said. "He had explained the course of action to me when we returned to the metro. He also planned much of the sanitation and determination of the hospital to serve as the center for epidemic control. Of course, the event worsened, so we've established some hubs where the really ill could get the help they need without causing a spread in larger facilities like hospitals."

"You're impressive yourself, too," I said. "Your will shines the brightest in these trying times because you never hesitate to help."

"People find it easy to be absorbed in their worries that they forget that they're never alone and that they're never the only one who needed and would need help," he said, smiling. "I guess I… we, really, have been accustomed to see what hopelessness looks like that we learned to become willful, for we know that we could still do something."

"I understand," I muttered, nodding and smiling. "I hope we achieve success here and curb the infection."

"Oh, we will," he said. "That, I'm very hopeful in having and doing."

The locals of Polillo watched us from their opened windows, following the trail of the truck that headed straight to the municipal hall of Polillo. The mood outside appeared to be an anesthetic peace—forced and applied that the coldness of the surrounding worsened as the thick air swirled in the empty roads and streets.

When we arrived at the municipal hall, a few more militiamen helped us out of the truck and in their small municipal hall—about the height of a two-story house and is wide enough to contain all twenty-something volunteers.

"Welcome, everyone," an older woman walked downstairs approaching us with a smile. "How's the travel? I hope you're not as tired as I thought you were."

"No problem at all, Mayor Dollesin," Junkyu replied. "Hungry and sleepy, but we could still wait until we reach our barracks."

"Believe me, Dr. Kim," she said, embracing Junkyu, "we're trying to make it as home-y as possible, given your popularity among the press," she said.

"You mean, notoriety," he said, grinning. "I'm just happy to help out, so I prefer when nobody spoils my happiness."

"Of course, of course," she said. "I'm just happy you're back in the neck of my woods again. Reverend Rotor has been emailing the hall nonstop about barring your entry."

"Is that right?" Junkyu muttered. He shook his head, huffing. "He's not exactly important to me right now. Anyway, I would like to introduce you to some key people who are not in the medical field."

"Okay," she said.

"This is Choi Danny," he said, pointing to me. I extended my hand and she promptly shook it. "He's a journalist—has a great deal of credentials as a foreign correspondent."

"Foreign correspondent," she said. "What are you covering most of the time?"

"Conflict, mostly. Civil wars and all the like. I also do interviews that usually put my life in grave danger," I replied.

"That seems intense," she said, "what made you volunteer here? Don't you want the bigger story of Marawi Siege?"

"I wanted to cover my friend's initiative, but I also needed to hear the opinions of the people who would use it, so I volunteered."

"That's impressive," she said. "You might find some challenges here, but I assure you everyone is cooperative. Even the biggest detractors of the medical mission. I just wish someone could convince them to retract what they said about vaccination and immunization."

"I firmly believe in education. We can always change the tide of beliefs," I answered.

She smiled, nodding. "Great answer," she said, "I feel more confident now."

"And, this is So Junghwan, an engineer, please, come here," Junkyu said.

When Junghwan approached, the older lady smiled and looked at me and then to Junghwan and Junkyu and to the other medics grouping up to talk about their actions. "You did bring more good-looking men and women," she said. "Much of the locals here are excited to see the rest of the medical volunteers, they said they looked like models."

"I hope the faces convince them more," Junkyu said. "Anyway, I'll let Junghwan worked along the other engineers and hopefully, the could finish everything within a few weeks." He looked at Junghwan who nodded. "How long would you stay here?"

"About a week or so," he answered. "I'll help out in the best way I could," he said, smiling, "or so that's the plan. Installing solar panels sounds easy enough, but I'm also available for some more building and stuff... I'm sorry, I really don't know what to say..."—he chuckled—"but I'll help in the best that I can." He extended his arm, reaching to Mayor Dollesin who prompty shook his hand.

"Well, good luck and godspeed for progress," she said. "I have the barracks sanitized and the helpers must have been cooking already, so drive safely and I'll see you all again tomorrow," she said, tipping her head and returning upstairs.

Junkyu waved his arms, smiling while Junghwan and I returned to the group.

I approached Jaden who seemed pleased about the outcomes of their regrouping.

"What happened to you?" I asked. "You look pumped."

"Am I?" he replied, shrugging. "I miss this," he said. "I miss this kind of work so much."

"Me, too," I said. "I miss this kind of work, too."

I just wish that Jun were here to see the steps I'm making. I'm feeling guilty that he's left behind and I'm getting my chance of progress.

Life is so unfair, but it's unfair to everyone, so I don't really know what to think of that compromise.

—————  
TRANSCRIPT OF A PHONE CONVERSATION BETWEEN WATANABE DAVID AND CHOI DANIEL

CHOI DANIEL: Hello, who's this?

WATANABE DAVID: This is David—

CHOI DANIEL: Oh, hey there! What's up?

WATANABE DAVID: Not much is up. (laughter) A bit groggy, but I'm happy that I'm already home. How are stuff?

CHOI DANIEL: (sighing) It's fine, I guess. I don't really know what to feel with all that's happening here in Polillo. Have I told you that I'm here in Polillo? The place is pristine, and I guess we're near a tourist-y spot that I have some mad phone reception, right now.

WATANABE DAVID: That's great. What are you doing in Polillo, by the way? Did you volunteer?

CHOI DANIEL: I did. (snickers) I'm covering the key events about the medical mission here in Polillo Island. I'm interviewing some volunteers earlier about their observations of the ill, and so far they're saying that this is, by far, one of the worst health emergencies they saw. Though, I'm not entirely surprised, some of the children are not vaccinated.

WATANABE DAVID: Oh, darn! I feel bad for the children.

CHOI DANIEL: Me, too. I can't believe there are those who had pneumonia because of the advance worsening of the virus. Though, they're trying their best to alleviate some of their suffering, but pneumonia or encephalitis is just an endgame for chickenpox. There were six adults airlifted from here to Manila, I presume to get further treatment.

WATANABE DAVID: Are you scared?

CHOI DANIEL: I don't know. I think I should be.

WATANABE DAVID: I'm just asking. I mean, I know you have seen people die in front of you, but to die because of a chickenpox complication is just sad. The disease is curable. It has vaccines, too. It's just... I don't know. If I were there, I would feel like crying. Granted, I do cry whenever I heard of someone dying.

CHOI DANIEL: I guess it's a natural reaction.

WATANABE DAVID: It is. (laughter) But people just find it weird because of my profession. An ICU nurse crying over death and knowing or seeing someone dying. My rebuttal, usually, is that a hard-fought life deserves the emotional respect it gets. But the truth is, I fear that maybe death is all there is and then nothing else.

CHOI DANIEL: David…

WATANABE DAVID: (laughter) Oh, gee! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said any of that. Goodness. What has gotten into me? But I mean it. Seeing death makes me think about my mortality, and the consciousness is just immense that I'm starting to think about what's in the mind of those who are dying.

/Silence/

WATANABE DAVID: Anyway, who did you interview first?

CHOI DANIEL: That… I spoke with Dr. Takata Mashiho and Dr. Kim Junkyu regarding disease transmission and how and where the chickenpox epidemic begins. They're also debunking some old wives tales regarding the mentioned illness which is quite fun to learn.

WATANABE DAVID: Do you have a transcript already? I would love to read it.

CHOI DANIEL: Well, not yet, but I might prepare it once I finish interviewing Dr. Kamenari Jaden. It's about vaccination and immunization, and how it helps to prevent another epidemic.

WATANABE DAVID: How long will you be there?

CHOI DANIEL: Hmmm... two weeks or so, I guess. I mean, I want to track the entire progress of the medical mission. Everyone's looking up in stopping the spread within two weeks, so I'm very excited to see everyone well.

WATANABE DAVID: That sounds exciting.

CHOI DANIEL: More or less. I mean, it's not exactly great when there's a reactivation of VZV among children who had the virus already or adults and really old people showing signs of shingles.

WATANABE DAVID: Oh, right, once you had it, reactivation is rare but possible. But the reactivation is quite worse that it often cause inflammation of the lungs and brain. Were there cases of reactivation?

CHOI DANIEL: That, I don't know. I haven't had the census of reactivation yet, but Junkyu and Mashi said that there were lab results showing reactivation among adults and immunocompromised people. Though I haven't had the actual number, I'm expecting there will be plenty of reactivation due to a number of adults getting infected.

WATANABE DAVID: What's difficult with that is if the infection has no rash. The usual self-explanatory symptom is the rash. No rash meant tests had to be done and when tests are done, it's almost always inconclusive.

CHOI DANIEL: Woof! That sounds bad, but since I'm already here, I'll do my best to make this work.

WATANABE DAVID: I know you would. Anyway, I'm turning in for now. I'll talk to you later or tomorrow, I guess.

CHOI DANIEL: No problem! Good night, David!

WATANABE DAVID: You, too, make sure you sleep.

CHOI DANIEL: Sleep? What's that?

WATANABE DAVID: You know, that's bad to your—

CHOI DANIEL: I'm just kidding. Good night! I'll finish some write-ups now. Good night!

WATANABE DAVID: Good night and goodbye!

CHOI DANIEL: Buh-bye!

END OF CONVERSATION


	13. A GOOD REPUTATION IS A SECOND PATRIMONY

TRANSCRIPT OF A VIDEO TRIBUTE FOR CHOI DANIEL 

PART 1 OF 3

"Daniel Choi: The First Project Of An Influential Correspondent You Heard Of But Never Really Knew"

We ran a survey, asking journalism students regarding their most influential journalists of today, and names such as Lester Holt, Christiane Amanpour, Anderson Cooper, and Louis Theroux are mentioned—with one exception. Tucked among the foreign bigwigs is another man who is virtually unknown.

Choi Daniel is extraordinary for many reasons. He's a young man whose length of experience pales in comparison to the traditional expectation among foreign correspondents. He received his Pulitzer at the age of thirty-four. The pictures he took and the articles he wrote were framed and hanged in the Museum of Journalism of the Philippines. He is considered to be the young Christiane Amanpour of the Philippines for the names he had interviewed: Hosni Mubarak and Muammar Al-Gaddafi, just to name a few. He's covered many instances of violence that shook the world. He has a very public breakdown and disappears in the limelight for seven years. News of his disappearance surfaced last week, and today, waves of condolences and consolation arrive to the Choi family as news of his suicide is made public; however, his body is still not found.

The world of journalism is grieving the lost of a bright and brave light. They consider his untimely death as a loss for journalists everywhere and journalism in every form. But who is Choi Daniel? Here, we will revisit his first project and see the emergence of an esteemed correspondent who took the world by a storm.

BRAVERY interviews a handful of people who worked closely with Daniel Choi.

XP in the mid-nineties was on the front line of the battle for the future of journalists. The tradition had slowly been changed and replaced in the entry of modern technology that several students were starting to witness the crossroads between their present condition of journalism and what awaited them in the future. The Journalism Department, led by Dr. Kim Ji-Won, was mounting a serious challenge. Dr. Kim Ji-Won was aware of the rumors spreading from July to December XXX2 about some military personnels inquiring about grievances of members of the armed forces. Talks about recruitment from the ranks of the discontented and potential rebels in the military were heard from former members of the Reform the Armed Forces Movement (RAM) and junior officers in the military. These reports were relayed to Brig. Gen. Victor Corpus. It was later verified that a series of secret meetings among junior officers in the military had taken place in various parts of the country, in Metro Manila, Central Luzon, and Mindanao.

Students of XP were firmly expected to come up with a write-up regarding the upcoming explosion of events that became the Oakwood Mutiny and the Peninsula Siege.

Bang Yedam was in Choi Daniel's class.

BANG YEDAM: Everyone's excited, you know. It's the first real interaction we have that wasn't a featured article—not that I have problems with it, but when you're in a journalism school as prestigious as XP, you would want the tougher and more challenging stories. I was presenting my write-up regarding my findings about a bloodletting ritual that happened on June 4, X00X in a house in San Juan, Metro Manila. I was talking about my angle, and I'm starting to wrap up my report. And Daniel looked up from his notes and asked. "What does Gringo _____ say about the allegations?" We all just looked at him. "You're making an opinion piece, right? Shouldn't you consider all the angles to come up with a fair opinion?"

Daniel's preoccupation with fairness caught the attention of Dr. Kim Ji-won, who hired him to work for the story.

BANG YEDAM: He had just returned from Iraq that year, but Professor Ji-won only hired Daniel. It was a big blow.

KIM JIWON: I'm not looking for someone who has rage alone—and believe me, rage is necessary to develop a story. And XP-produced journalists have rage to drive a story in its most interesting. I'm looking for someone who has rage and control on top of decent to excellent writing. Daniel Choi happened to be a phenomenal researcher and interviewer, and it doesn't hurt that he's an above average but teachable writer.

Daniel Choi is the most junior member of the group assigned to uncover the story behind the Oakwood Mutiny and the alleged corruption of the Macapagal-Arroyo administration. He's assigned to speak with the leader of the mutiny, himself, Antonio —————.

KIM JIWON: Daniel Choi is a go-getter. The news about the Oakwood Mutiny is just one of—if not, the biggest political scandals of contemporary Philippine history. He requested to interview the people surrounding the scandal, and he's adamant about it.

DANIEL CHOI explained, "I need to hear their side of the story. I'm pretty sure those grievances are not petty if the government is linking mutiny and/or overthrowing the administration as a purpose for their request for reform."

I told him, "They wouldn't want to speak with us—especially, when they see journalists as people who are paid by the government to talk about a single side. And the side they assumed we held most important is the side of their enemy. Better think of another way to get more information."

I'd like to say that I told him well, and that what I offered as an advice came out to be the reality of his suggestion. But he received a reply the next week regarding his request for an interview.

KIM JIWON: They accepted his request for an interview. And we're leading for the story race that time.

The Oakwood Mutiny becomes the turning point of X00X where people are fascinated to know more of what's going to happen, either of fear and of interest. The soldiers raised the NRP or National Reform Program as a priority that would solve the problems of the Philippine society.

But word out of it is elusive, until Choi Daniel's coverage surfaced.

KIM JIWON: He led the national headline, but with the surfacing of his interview and the decision of the then-president Macapagal Arroyo to call for a state of rebellion. We were impressed by him, but he's sad that the story ended in the note of surrender and incarceration of Antonio ————.

"I was sad to see him drop the story and return to flying out of the Philippines and reporting about the struggles of other countries."

Daniel Choi was gone for Basra for eight months. He was still under Kim Jiwon's supervision and tutelage but preferred the freedom to chase the story of conflict without the interference of a supervisor from time to time.

Another name came to attention that year, criticizing the actions and inaction of those involved in the mutiny, Park Jun. The flame of passion in Choi Daniel's heart and the anchor who took over the reportage of Oakwood Mutiny and Peninsula Siege in the absence of Choi Daniel.

BANG YEDAM: They're a good-looking couple, but what they kept public in opinion is what they kept private in their relationship, and you have to laud the ability of those two to keep their personal lives under wraps and not interfere with their personal leanings.

YOON JAEHYUK: This might not be appropriate to address, but Daniel has no fondness with the Oakwood Mutiny reportage. Yes, he's responsible for clearing the waves of doubt and fear, but he also held himself responsible for the surrender and incarceration of the soldiers, especially the ringleader of the movement.

Now-senator Antonio ———— remembered the interview fondly. He described it as, 'brief and truthful' and he admired the bravery to ask questions that are rather unpopular.

The questions were succinct, too.

DANIEL CHOI: "To set the record straight, is this a coup d'etat?"

ANTONIO ————: "This isn't a coup d'etat. We're not planning to grab power. We're just trying to express our grievances against this government."

The staged scene is quiet and with static noises ramping up the surrounding.

DANIEL CHOI: "The public also wants to know this, what is it that you're trying to gain in this movement?"

ANTONIO —————: "This is rather difficult to say, but the truth is we want to address the corruption in the government and the military. We wanted the public to know that life could be and get better. We also wanted the president and some officials who are held accountable with corruption to resign."

DANIEL CHOI: "Are you aware that the president called for the state of rebellion and gave a leeway for surrender?"

ANTONIO ————: "Yes, we're made to be the bad guy in this narrative, and it's a tired trope, but they're calling us for a negotiation lately."

DANIEL CHOI: "Do you believe that this negotiation would pave a path to change?"

ANTONIO ————: "As much as I want to say, yes, I have not the confidence or esteem to believe the words of our government. I'm sure that they're only sweet talking us to surrender, but I have faith in dialogue. The reforms we're asking would not be given in our lifetimes, but this is the proof that we're not planning to kill or maim anyone."

The interview is used to air in every news channel and that led to the decision to call for a state of rebellion.

KIM JIWON: You might remember the president back then stating that the event in Makati is under control—all smiles and glee. The National Recovery Plan or NRP didn't really fly. In fact, you might remember that they also set another activity which became the Peninsula Siege. When he surrendered, he's up for a coup d'etat case, and he also needed to face a court martial proceeding due to his violation of the articles of war. He's detained and incarcerated for four years. That really hit him hard.

BANG YEDAM: If you're an avid follower of his writings—I mean, I am, and I enjoyed the tough voice he uses in his articles, you would see that all is out of the country. I think he considered the events after the publication as a personal failure he wouldn't overcome; thus affected by guilt that he didn't take any project in the Philippines. He should have gone easy on himself.

Even if he considered it as a personal failure, his adamant decision brought the truth out and helped the dissenters get their chance to prove the legitimacy of their objectives.

YOON JAEHYUK: If only Daniel could see from the future and determine that now-senator Antonio ———— would be free and even win a senate seat, he would've taken more projects here in the Philippines.

But either from here—in the Philippines or to there—in thel world, we wouldn't want it any other way. Daniel Choi's humble beginning as an esteemed correspondent is our favorite and would always look back on it as a triumph for truth and a battle everyone knows to be fought hard and stolen.

This is BRAVERY, and Daniel Choi is one of our heroes.

—————

Barangay Salipsip is relatively the least infected among twenty barangays with cases promptly dropping from ten to null.

I take that as a good news—but with the wave of our happiness and proceeding to vaccinate the children and adults alike comes the challenge of facing the religious groups who are staging their own dissent towards the movement of medicine.

It's weird, really, seeing a portion of youth and adults up in arms and raising their signage about vaccines being a poison, and they'd promote natural cure over the artificial medicine Junkyu's team had brought for the initiative.

————

OUR CHILDREN OUR CHOICE.

CHILDREN CAN'T CONSENT WITHOUT A PARENT PRESENT.

GOD IS MY VACCINE.

VACCINE IS UNAVOIDABLY UNSAFE.

GIVE VOICE TO THE VACCINE INJURED

MY CHILD DIES BECAUSE OF DENGVAXIA. YOUR CHILD CAN BE NEXT.

DR. KIM JUNKYU: FALSE PROPHET. MURDERER. KILLING CHILDREN WITH POISON.

————

Holding my camera, I made sure to document the plight of the dissenters. Though, I had high hopes that they wouldn't bring someone who was infected, but they did.

Jaden, who was right beside me, took a face mask from his bag, approached the young man and handed it over to him. I also took a photo of Jaden when the said young man took it and wore it.

It was strange—unbelievable, even. There're plenty of mass demonstrating individuals blocking the path to enter Salipsip, and they're not thinking of stepping out to give way to us. Even Junkyu who was usually headstrong just shook his head and joined our group. He looked disappointed—upset, even. Normally, he would see the humor and irony of dissent during an epidemic, but his eyes drooped and were a little red—like he had finished crying.

I tried ignoring it, though, but even his smile is small and shy. Completely lacking what made Junkyu's perfect smile the more compelling.

"This is their stronghold." He frowned deeply. I never had doubts. Though, I'm not exactly fond of not doubting because of the existing popular opinion that vaccines as simple as a varicella shot is seen as evil. And you know how you have begrudging respect to some evil, but no, they see it as an evil to be avoided. "If it's only five or ten, I could disperse them myself, but these people—I mean—I think we're fighting a damn church. We would really need some help from the militiamen. And I would need to thank them, begrudgingly."

"This is horrifying, though." And for good reason. They're not really picky with who should join and who shouldn't. In fact, I saw Jaden handing over face masks to those who joined the rally and were exhibiting the tell-tale sign of chickenpox: the rash and the globules. "Look at Jaden," I said, training my camera to him before taking another photo. "He's handing out face masks. I think it would be best to start out with this group. They're spreading it further."

"That's our problem," Junkyu said, sighing. "There's no guarantee of immunity especially when the sick are not

in quarantine. They're just free to spread the virus. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them ended up having the virus and spread it to their barangays. This is just madness."

And madness, I thought of it, too. I admire the celebration of dissent, but the dissenters are not exactly getting the point of the gravity of their situation.

People are falling ill. Some had already passed. Some are in worsening condition, yet they're preventing the entry of help. This led me to imagine the famine in Somalia—when help arrived, the city mafia took the relief good and brought it to themselves. Not minding the hunger and death that surrounded the event.

After a few minutes of waiting, the militiamen arrived, Jaden approached them and whispered something to them before he returned from where we were watching.

"What did you tell them?"

"I handed out some face masks to those who have chickenpox, right? I asked the militiamen to bring them to the quarantine area, I have my suspicion that they're the spreaders—unwittingly, at least. Most of their wounds are healing already, but they still have the fever."

"Is that right?" Junkyu chimed in. He put his index finger on his chin, pouting. "You want to help Dr. Takata in the quarantine area, Jaden?"

He nodded. "Would be better, really. I think Mashi needs some help, too. Plus, I want to interview those two about their whereabouts so we could visit it in the following days."

"That urgent?" I replied.

"Apparently," Junkyu said, nodding to Jaden. "If you think it's serious, I wouldn't object."

"Thank you," he said. "I'm not really sure about what I scanned, but those wounds are over fourteen days but there are still plenty of rashes erupting from their skin. I'll ask Mashi to check further, because I'm not that confident either."

"You're doing just fine," Junkyu said. "Maybe you'd give some of the notes to Danny so he could analyze it, too." He looked at me, smiling. "Speaking of you, Danny, would you mind if we go somewhere private and talk?"

"Huh?" I answered, feeling a bit anxious. 

"I have a confession to make, and you're my best bet to understand this for me."

"Are you sure?" I asked, again. "Wouldn't you want to do it with a priest instead?"

"Oh, come on, just—you wouldn't mind, right, Jaden?"

"Knock yourselves out. We have our directive already, and the demonstrators are being moved, too. Just don't take too long, You're still the leader, Junkyu."

"See, Jaden doesn't mind. Let's go," he said. He held my hand and brought me to a corner.

Following Junkyu, while normal, felt like a portion of the climax in Muriel Spark's The Prime of Miss. Jean Brodie, in which I meant in the assumption that I'm awaiting Junkyu's greatest betrayal.

His hazel eyes were wide, as usual. The smile on his cheeks were small and shy. When we arrived somewhere far, he immediately hugged me and started sobbing. "They vetoed my proposal," he said. "I—The proposal failed."

And the reaction should be prompt, but I couldn't find the right words in me. Instead, I hugged him back and didn't offer any words to console him. "Cry it all out," I said.

"I already knew that it wouldn't fly, but I pushed it anyway. I feel like I failed a lot of people, myself, mostly, but also those who believed in what I could do."

And the more he cried, the tighter he hugged me. "And I'm so disappointed in myself, because this is my one true shot for change."

Seeing how Junkyu bared his soul in the thought of his failure, I learned that expectations, especially those that come from one self could lead to sadness when not realized.

He is crushed, even. Unwilling to show his type of weakness to Jaden who wouldn't dare tease him in these trying times. "I really don't know what to say, Junkyu," I said. "I have my fair share of failures, but I really don't know how to translate what you're feeling."

He nodded his head. "I understand, Danny," he said, "I'm just feeling down is all. I'm not the type to disappoint people, but when I do, I'm disappointed in myself more."

"But—you did your all, right?"

"I guess superficial all. I just regret that I made a promise, you know, to myself, that I will inspire change."

"We're only individuals, Junkyu. We're just a spoonful of water from an ocean. We wouldn't even make a ripple alone." I looked at him, nodding. "This isn't my forte, either. I'm not the let's go, community type of person, but I'm trying now—and I'm hopelessly and endlessly trying, and so should you."

"Thank you, Danny," he said. "Seriously, thank you."

"Maybe the next time you fight for your initiative, it would help you better if you involve other people in the decision-making. I'm not saying that more heads functioned better than one, but perspective helps you understand the case better." I bit my lip, smiling. "In line of confessions, I think I should follow the custom and confess, too," I said, chuckling. "I didn't tell anyone that I would be here. I left a letter but that's all. I don't think it's sufficient and I fear my mom would start feeling worried."

"Why didn't you?"

I shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know. And I'm not trying to be edgy, but I'm not the type to dwell on failure that I would rather leave than know the aftermath of my actions."

"You think your mother is a failure?"

"What? No, not at all. I'm referring to my mother as someone I failed, and I couldn't face her until I made a difference in myself, but then inspiring difference and working the difference are not entirely easy to do or to see, and when that happened, I just ran away."

"Do you feel like you need to prove something to your mother?"

I shook my head. "At first, I thought I do, but my mother loves me anyway, but I feel like I need to change my old self and prove that I could change, but thinking about it everyday and seeing the littlest of my inched walking, I think I've moved further away from who I could become."

And then I couldn't find myself crying or begging for my old self to return, either. I stood in between my selves and the possible endings they would have, but every attempt to get nearer to my future just made it difficult to accept that all there was to me was someone moping about the past—I don't want him, but I also don't have a future to choose.

At least that's what I thought.

"Don't sell yourself short, Danny," he said. "You'll get through this, and when you did, all that happened would be a memory of your vulnerability that you learned to control. Learn to have faith in communication and connection, Danny. You know that, you're just afraid to fail again."

I nodded to him. He grabbed my hand and brought me back to the street where the demonstrators were being dispersed.

I need to control my disappointment in myself, he said. I'll try. I just wish it's as easy to do it as it was easy to say it.

—————

The arrival of the afternoon light is my remorse. And though silence kept me company at the beach side, the cry of wandering gulls brought an auditory companion that was just and peaceful. They flocked on the shore and flew from here to there, chasing and copying each other as they dove to the water and grabbed their sustenance for this afternoon.

Toiling and doing their duties to prevent hunger, and then returning to the shore to meet their flock.

They stood and clawed and scratched the sand, and when the wind passed, they flew as if the whispers of the wind brought ominous news.

The empty beach is a great place to feel lost—to feel sorry for myself, I guess. Because the surrounding has nothing to build a comparison. No frolicking tourists. No playful children. No loving spouses. No one to remind me of age and of the chase. Just the birds—freely taking over without any interference. And right now, the thought of doing something in my sadness kept me hopeful and free, for I know that happiness is in the toiling and not in the harvest.

The volunteers are starting to re-group at the barracks. Even in the distance of a few feet to consider, I could hear the glee in the voices of the medical practitioners. How they shouted in amazement and laughed at the events that made their efforts recognizable.

"I knew you'd be here." I looked for the source of the voice and found Jaden's friendly smile. "What are you up to?"

"Just thinking," I replied.

And I was—I didn't prevent myself from smiling as Jaden joined me from where I was sitting. The wind passed through and caressed our black locks of hair. It was tousled and jostled, yet I felt no objection.

I sighed, and watched the slow descent of the orange ball to the water, staining it like spilt amontillado to a basin of clear water. Orange, it appeared. It stirred. It called for my name as the wind ran through it again.

"You sound content," he said, "did something happen?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, really. I just—I love watching the plummeting sun to the sea at the shore. It's—how to explain it—liberating, I guess…"—I looked at him, smiling and sighing—"…yes, it's liberating because for once in my life, I felt genuinely free of the baggage I carry."

"That's great to hear," he replied. "I'm happy that you're happy. Mashi and I handled the interview earlier. Just a few questions here and there. Apparently, those churchgoers we brought to the quarantine area weren't forced to join the demonstration earlier. They believed that their dissent was approved by God. A really crazy afternoon, to be honest.

"That's neat," I answered. "Did they… give any specification about where they went in the last week or three days and so?"

"Just the church and their house, they said. It wasn't entirely an interrogation, so we didn't do any of the good cop-bad cop shit. We just took their word for it."

"People," I said, sighing. "You never really know their point whenever they do something—I hate how it's always introspective."

"They have their own idol to revere, and it's just what prompted their fight for the great fight."

Fighting for the great fight. It's not difficult to see that they have their own agenda, but in the matter of life and death, the priority should always be life. Even when it's difficult or just impossible to survive. Life is always the priority.

"How's the story so far?"

"Still working on it," I said, shrugging. "You heard the news already?"

"About?"

"Junkyu's automated initiative?"

He tilted his head and looked at me. "What happened?"

"Vetoed. It didn't pass the second reading."

"That's unfortunate, but that happens, too. Not everyone is going to embrace modernity when they have an old system that works."

I nodded. "They're just particularly annoying for their passivity. They know it would revolutionize medical practice here in the Philippines, but they just wouldn't see to spend it."

"Maybe it would help him to start small, or something like that—find a municipality where he could kick start it before he made arrangements to make it a national thing."

Starting small. Maybe that's what Junkyu needed to do. To see to it that it would work in a population. "You might want to suggest that."

"I'm in no position to suggest that," he said.

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "I have ideas and all, sure, but it's not my business to make him see that, he needs to figure it out himself. Otherwise, starting small might cause his grudge with its lack of ambition, and he would just give up or worse, fail."

"Isn't it easier to help?"

He nodded. "Usually, it is, but the best help you can give to someone is your patience and hope that they would see the perils of their actions. You can only ever help until you hit a dead end, and then even you are giving up."

I didn't know what to say. I know he's right—the small shy smile on his cheeks, and the way he nodded his head as he closed his eyes to enjoy the brief entering and fleeing of the cold air. He's telling the truth. We should stop relying on impulses.

"Want to return to the barracks now?"

"Sure," he said.

Our return to the barracks was quick, we didn't take a detour, so it only took us three minutes to reach the place. When we did, I saw Junghwan entering the communal kitchen, holding a teacup carefully.

Upon my entry, I saw Reverend Rotor sitting on one of the dining chairs, smiling at Junghwan who indiscriminately poured him copious amounts of tea again.

"Good afternoon, Reverend," I said. I reached for his hand and brought it to my forehead. "What brought you here?"

"Things, you know," he said, "plus, I've been wanting to see the progress of their volunteer work. And you must be?"

"Oh, we haven't been introduced, I'm Choi Daniel," I said. "I'm the one who sent you an email two days ago. I haven't received a reply regarding my request for an interview."

The old man seemed to glow in recognition. "I can make some time for that. I'll send a prompt reply when I return."

I was about to say something when Junkyu's loud voice entered the scene. "Great job, everyone!" But the moment his gaze draped upon the figure of Reverend Rotor, the smile on his face turned bitter. "How are you doing, father?"

"If you must know, I'm well," he said, "but the dropping morale of our residence is something that I find worrisome."

Junkyu smiled again, hanging an arm on my shoulder. "Life is not without its concerns, so isn't that good for morale building?"

"This is serious," he said, urgently. "You're injecting poison in the bodies of our weak and needy. We supported your entry here, but we couldn't support your attempt to make us your guinea pig."

"We?" Junkyu scoffed. "Did you run a poll there, father?"

"You must have seen the demonstrators earlier, and their adamant fight for natural healing, like how God intended it to be, so yes, I did take a poll," he said.

"Is the idea of vaccination really inconvenient for you, Reverend? I'm not entirely the religious type, so I don't get you bible-thumping people and your aversion to accept that the world changed since raining brimstone and blood red rivers," he told the older man.

"You're not exposing anything in this process, Dr. Kim," the older man replied. "You are only leaving a stain in your reputation here."

"That might be true, really, but do you remember the time when gang crimes are at an all time high? And the government proposes that everyone involved—regardless of their participation—I mean, one of their gang brothers started shooting up a place, and you're just there minding your own business. The law posited that you're guilty and to be tried because of your affiliation to the gang. For in their eyes, they see you as culpable—culpable of those crimes because you joined them." He sat down and remained fixed in looking at the older man who was grinning and challenging his patience. "From where I stood, father, you, church boys, are no different from those gangs they used to hunt. Of course they protect your kind with cover-ups when you do crime, but you got your color, you got your books and your rules, and you got your club house. You are for a lack of a better word—a gang. So I don't really see it that I'm the one with a stained reputation when some of your church boys are down there, molesting an altar boy while you pretend to care about life while reading your bible and smoking your pipe. Well, then, Reverend, that means you're culpable, because you joined the gang, man!"

Junkyu stood up and shook his head. "And when someone is culpable of altar-boy molesting or any kind of boy molesting, really, because I'm pretty certain some pent-up frustration would get to your head. Then, you forfeit your rights to come down here and pretend to care about what I think. So why don't you just finish your tea there, Reverend, so you can get the fuck out of our kitchen."

Junkyu stepped out of the kitchen, angry. But not without grinning to Reverend Rotor who was red and fuming from what is said to him.

Over here, though, Jaden, Junghwan, and I were surprised. Not letting out a breath of word as we're not thinking of rocking the boat further.

"Thank you for coming down here anyway, Reverend," Junghwan said, sighing. He didn't know what to do, and so were we. We just looked in and thought of leaving.


End file.
